Latura of Redwall, Book IV: An Abduction, Nefarious and Necessary
by Highwing
Summary: The door opens ...
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE**

If the rest of the Abbey failed to talk about Vanessa's latest antics over the morning meal, it was not only because nobeast remembered them. Even in this season of upheaval, displacement, dark portents and virtual siege, the previous afternoon's incident with Lady Mina stood out as a remarkable event at Redwall. Both for the injury itself, which had turned out to be as bafflingly benign as its infliction was freakishly bizarre, and for the spreading awareness that the Gawtrybe Queen had in fact been aiming at somebeast within the Abbey's walls, bowstring pulled back and arrow nocked to deliver a fatal shot. And if tails weren't wagging in excitement over this state of things, tongues certainly were.

"Didja hear? Shot by 'er own arrow, she were!"

"Always jolly well knew that bally bushtail couldn't be trusted not t' go against Abbey rules, wot?"

"Bur hurr, oi wunner 'oo she'm be a-shooten at?"

"Must've been one of the lead rats, or so 'tis said."

"If'n that's th' case, matey, mebbe t'wouldn'ta been such a great loss, would it?"

"ey, stow that kinda gab! They're our guests, at Abbot's decree, whether it rubs yore fur th' wrong way or no!"

"Abbot's decree? More like Winokur's. Those rats never would have gotten into Redwall if that otter hadn't forced the issue like he did! Almost acting like he thinks he's Abbot already himself!"

"Yes, but what if it really was the will of Martin that they're here? And Mina tried to slay one of them! What does it all mean?"

"Alex thinks the visiting Gawtrybe had something to do with this, and know who Mina was targeting, but they're refusing to say."

"Abbot Geoff should make 'em say, or else throw 'em out on their brushtails!"

"Throw'em out, throw'em out, makkem eat wormfood!"

"What of Mina? Can she really be allowed to reside here? Even if Captain Matowick did incite her, she was the one who was about to take a life. How can she still call herself a Redwaller after that? How can we?"

"And if she is expelled, will Alex go with her? That'd be a huge blow to our defenses. Nothing against Elmtail, he's a fine second-in-command, but he's no Alexander."

"Well, Alex is up there at her bedside right now, just like he's been all night. He still seems devoted to her, even after what she tried to do. He's the one who pieced it all together, in fact. I'd say he's got a tough decision to make ... "

For his own part, Alexander neither heard any of this debate and speculation, nor would he have cared about it if he had. All through the night and into morning he kept his vigil by his wife's bedside, sometimes napping briefly and fitfully in the bed alongside hers, sometimes sitting up to watch over her with a range of concerns. Arlyn and Metellus stayed in the Infirmary all night as well, making themselves available for frequent checks on Mina's condition when they weren't catching dozes themselves. And the chamber's only other occupants, the new rat mother and her babe, continued to hold down their corner bed with only the occasional gurgling and rustling to call scant attention to their presence.

Mina awoke briefly several times during the night, never long enough to say more than a few words or take a sip of water; she seemed genuinely comforted by Alexander's presence, and did not shrink or flinch when he took her paw in his, even as her eyes and face remained troubled verging on tortured. At these interludes he did not press her, letting his mere attendance assure her that he was there for her, even if an intensity in his own gaze conveyed that they had much to discuss yet. And each time, she would soon close her eyes and drift off again, allowing him to catch whatever small snatches of slumber he could for himself.

Now, with the sun fully risen and many of the Abbeybeasts already having finished their breakfasts, Mina came wide awake for the first time since her injury, sitting up against her pillows as daylight brightened the Infirmary. And there still was Alex, seated attentively at her bedside, willing her to complete recovery even as his impatience shone through as well. After trading a few concerned pleasantries and helping her with a few sips of fruit cordial, he got right to the matter on both their minds.

"Who was it, Mina?"

She thrust the cup back into his paws; Arlyn and Metellus, sensing that the two squirrels desired privacy, withdrew from the chamber altogether after giving Mina her morning examination. Turning her head away from him, she said, "I can't talk about it. Not yet."

"You're going to use that tack again? Even after this season's events have proven time and again that such secrecy only begets strained relations and heightened suspicions when the truth finally comes out? That song is getting pretty old, Mina, and it's lost all melody in my ears."

"If you're not here to support me, please leave."

Even Alexander, long accustomed to his wife's stern manner, was surprised by the coldness in Mina's tired voice. But he quickly saw through her strategy. "I won't be provoked, or put off by calculated rudeness. This is too important. Who were you aiming at? Are they still in danger? Will Matowick's squad try to slay that rat now themselves?"

"Matowick is not here to slay anybeast. On that you have my word."

"So he really is here about negotiating a visit for a searat delegation? Not to assassinate somebeast?"

"You must let him do what he came here to do. The stakes are too high. I didn't fully realize that yesterday, but I do now."

"Mina, what were you thinking? If you'd succeeded in cutting down an unarmed and unsuspecting creature in cold blood, you would have been cast out of Redwall, and never allowed to return."

"If I'd succeeded, I would have been more than willing to live with such a penalty."

Now Alex did feel his gorge rising. "You're as bad as those Gawtrybe out in Mossflower who murdered four rats rather than let them reach Redwall!"

"You don't understand. There's danger here, right inside this Abbey, a threat you can't possibly comprehend."

"Then enlighten me. I'm a big beast now; I can comprehend big things. Don't tell me I can't, and then shut me out for that very reason."

Mina drew in and let out a deep breath. "If it's any consolation, I could never have succeeded in my attempt yesterday. I wouldn't have been allowed. You don't think it's any accident that my bow broke, do you?"

Alexander's eyes widened. "Are you saying it was sabotaged?"

"Not by any mortal beast. The forces at play here are greater, more fundamental and more complex than I'd realized. I have no further place in them. I see that now."

"Are you saying it was ... Martin?"

"It could have been. Or it could have been another, or nobeast at all - just fate, making itself known through a piece of shattered yew. I was right there, and even I cannot say."

"What did Vanessa say to you? She was there with you ... "

"She ... knows more than we realize. Her connection with the ratmaid is real - I know that now."

"Geoff and Wink will be gratified to hear you finally admit that, even if it won't come as any great surprise to them." Alex shook his head. "Mina, after what you did, it will be very hard for you to stay at Redwall. Attempting to take another beast's life without provocation ... that's the kind of thing that gets an Abbey resident declared Outcast, the harshest penalty any Abbot or Abbess can impose. I can try to advocate on your behalf, and I'll vouch for you as best I can, but ... "

"It's all right, my love," she said. "I realize what an untenable position this is, for both of us. That's why, as soon as I am recovered enough to travel, I intend to go to Foxguard, and live there until this entire situation sorts itself out, to the extent that it may. Maybe later this season or next, after things have settled down a bit, the Abbot will see fit to invite me back, and maybe he won't. But for now, I feel it is for the best that I remove myself from Redwall."

Alexander sat dumbfounded. "I've never known you to run away from a problem, Mina."

"Run away? I'm not running away from anything! I'm facing up to what I've done, and what I have to do. The plain truth is, I'm not sorry for what I tried to do yesterday, only sorry that I didn't grasp matters well enough to know how futile my attempt would be. I very much doubt such lack of remorse would win any points with the Abbot, or my fellow Redwallers, but I'll not pretend to be something I'm not. By voluntarily removing myself from the Abbey, it will spare Geoff from having to make a difficult decision - at least for now. Until the worst of what's going on now blows over, my place is at Foxguard, not Redwall."

Alex stared hard into his wife's eyes. "Mina, is Urthblood an enemy of Redwall? If he is, tell me now, so we can start making preparations against him."

"Alex! How could you even contemplate such a notion? Lord Urthblood is both friend and ally to Redwall, as he has proclaimed repeatedly."

"Yes, he has, hasn't he? And so have you, and so have any number of his other creatures. So why then do I remain unconvinced? Actions speak louder than words, Mina - and lately, I'm seeing a whole range of actions which seemingly give lie to his declarations of benevolence. From you, and from others."

"It pains me to hear you say that, Alex. But some things are necessary, however ugly or messy they may be. This campaign is one of those. And I only hope you give Lord Urthblood a chance to prove his good intent toward Redwall, and don't judge him too harshly before then."

"I can only judge by what I see. And I can only give a beast so many chances before I have to draw my own conclusions. And from what I've seen so far this season, I think Urthblood may well have used up all his chances with me."

Mina folded her paws on her lap. "If that's the way you feel, then I can't be off to Foxguard soon enough. And I hope that when I eventually return, both my and Lord Urthblood's true feelings toward Redwall will have been demonstrated clearly enough so that we'll both be welcomed back into this Abbey with open arms."

"Who were you aiming at, Mina? Who did you mean to shoot?"

"Someday, Alex. But not today. Now, I'm feeling tired, and need to rest some more. If you can't refrain from further questions I won't answer, I would ask that you please leave me, and return when I am feeling stronger."

Recognizing his mate's immovable resolve, Alex bit his lip and held his tongue. But he did not leave her bedside.

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Somehow, it came to pass that morning that Maura was led firmly to believe - although she could not have said by whom - that the four leverets would be looked after by Melanie. The harewife assumed with equal certitude - a certitude whose origins could not have withstood close scrutiny - that Redwall's Badger Mother had the energetic quartet well in paw. Thus did the two guardians concern themselves with other matters, secure in the knowledge that the toddler hares would be well tended.

In a secluded part of the north grounds, far from gardens and orchard and pond and gatehouse and out of view of the walltop lookouts, Percy and the four young hares gathered close around Vanessa ... or Urthnessa the Bold, as they thought of her in her present guise, still sporting her painted badger strips. All knew that today their grand game would reach new heights, and waited eagerly on their instructions.

And so Vanessa issued them, leaning against an upended barrel like a podium - a general issuing orders from her command stanchion.

"You all know what to do now," she concluded. "Let Operation Synchronized Pandemonium commence!"

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Matowick stood by the gardens, staring across the grounds to where Latura sat amongst scores of her fellow rats, her peach dress prominent amidst the drab garb surrounding her. As he'd feared, word of Mina's possible assassination attempt against the ratmaid - or against Harth, or Truax, for nobeast knew for certain - had rallied the rodents to their savior, eager to protect her from any harm, real or imagined. In the thick of this living cordon, Latura was rendered untouchable to anybeast looking to do her harm - or to physically remove her from the Abbey.

The Gawtrybe squirrel stared down at a stake driven into the ground here for some purpose or other, idly noting how its shadow nearly touched a nearby pebble in the grass. His breakfast sat heavy in his stomach as doubt over his mission assailed him from all sides. He'd been up to visit Lady Mina in the Infirmary, of course, but upon seeing the taciturn stares turned his way by Alex and Mina both, he knew without a word he was not welcome there, and withdrew after the briefest of exchanges to determine her welfare, not even speaking of the joyous news Captain Saugus had brought during the night. Indeed, that news did little to buoy him now; what good was even fatherhood if he returned to Salamandastron without his prize, his mission unfulfilled? How could he remain an officer under Lord Urthblood's command if he failed in this crucial assignment? What standing could he and Perricone and little Elberon ever hope to enjoy amongst their fellow Gawtrybe, even if he resigned from the badger's service - or, more likely, was discharged in disgrace?

Aggravating his dour mood was the incessant ringing in his ears, worse now than ever. Ever since the episode in the belltower, he felt certain the condition had been exacerbated, the malicious aural assault compounding the hearing damage wrought by searat stormpowder. He'd slept little last night, between the excitement of new fatherhood, worry over Mina, concern for his mission, and the distracting, ever-present whine inside his skull. Hardly surprising, he told himself, that his appetite over breakfast had proven paltry, and that the meager fare he'd managed to sample now burned and gurgled in overwrought indigestion.

As if summoned by these troubled thoughts, a movement out of the corner of his eye made Matowick turn his head to behold Vanessa standing there, staring up at him. Bristling, he pushed down the urge to reach out and cuff her for the harm she'd caused him, lest that bring further punishment from Mother Maura, and almost certain expulsion from the Abbey. Settling for a dark scowl instead, he growled, "What infernal torment have you come to heap upon me now?"

Rather than goading him with the expected juvenile taunts, Vanessa raised a knowing paw to her lips. "Shhhh," she said softly, backing away from him with even, measured reverse steps. "Watch. Listen. It's almost time ... "

And then she disappeared. Simply vanished, right before his eyes.

Blinking, Matowick found himself gazing down at the stake once more. The advancing shadow now lay on the other side of the pebble - more than it could possibly have moved in the brief moments of his encounter with the afflicted Abbess.

So it was true. She really could hypnotize creatures, send them into a trance which made it seem as if no time had passed while she made her escape, creating the illusion of disappearing into thin air. If he'd not just experienced the phenomenon firstpaw, he'd scarcely have believed it. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he wondered whether Lord Urthblood had ever mastered such a talent.

A hollow, rattling rumble in the distance made him look up, only to see Vanessa rolling a barrel along the east walltop, forcing the sentries up there to scramble and dodge out of her way. She was up there already? How long had his trance left him standing staring sightlessly at nothing?

Never did he stop to consider that she might have done more to him than merely send him into a time-freezing trance. And so - entirely of his own volition, of course - he decided that he would watch, and listen.

Because it was almost time.


	2. Chapter 74

**CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR**

**OPERATION SYNCHRONIZED PANDEMONIUM**

Sergeant Peppertail stood with several other Abbeybeasts along the walltop overlooking the orchard, and the rat encampment sprawling within and beyond the fruit grove. All heads turned when they both saw and heard Vanessa coming their way, her rolling barrel preceding her. They shared a chuckle as the Sergeant called out, "Hullo, wot's this now, Nessa? Deliverin' us devoted defenders some liquid libations to quench our parched whistles whilst we stand lookout? Most thoughtful, m'gel, an' jolly well appreciated!"

A squirrel named Twirltuft elbowed Peppertail in the ribs with a playful jab. "I'd say your whistle's staying dry, Sarge, to judge by the hollow rattling I hear coming from that keg. No full cask ever made a sound like that!"

The hare's ears drooped in disappointment. "An' here I was, rampin' m'self up for some cooling cordial, a bit of fabulous fizz, a quaff of refreshin' ale or a spot of ambrosial brandy or wonderful wine! Why, even a flagon of clear, crisp water would've done th' bally trick! Lookout duty's a hard lot indeed!"

Twirltuft's eyes rolled. "Oh, yes, torturous beyond words!"

Vanessa stopped before them, tipping her barrel up on its end; from the ease with which she performed this feat, her audience surmised that the staved vessel must indeed have been as empty as Twirltuft predicted and Peppertail feared, and no sound of sloshing came from within, either. Apparently, it was just another of the afflicted Abbess's playthings.

"Right then, so wot's with this rolling racket anyway? An' just who're you s'posed to be? Some Badger Lady of Salamandastron yore? Not sure that's entirely in good taste, or properly respectful."

"I'm Urthnessa the Bold!" Vanessa declared, with a thump on the top of the barrel for emphasis. The dull echo of her pawslap against the drained container mingled with another softer, muted but more insistent sound only just now impinging upon the awareness of the others. "And this here's for the show!"

"What show?" Twirltuft inquired with a smirk. "Puppets on a barreltop? Or are you going to put Droge in there to reprise his crab monster routine?"

"We've already had our Pageant for this season," Peppertail reminded her. "Can't risk another, lest Browder be tempted to tread the boards again, wot? Don't need to be seein' that spectacle anytime soon, don'tcha know."

"Oh, this won't be like that!" Vanessa promised with a wide, cheerful smile. "My little friends and I will make you forget all about that pretend playing!"

"Your little friends," Twirltuft repeated. "And by that I suppose you mean Percy and his leveret pals? We saw you all playing yesterday by the weapons pile. Not sure why Melanie allowed that, but nobeast seems the worse for it, so ... "

But Vanessa was shaking her head. "Nope. I mean all my other little friends! Got lots 'n' lots 'n' lots of 'em, and they're just dying to come out and play!"

Peppertail and Twirltuft traded puzzled glances. "Wotever you say, Nessa m'gel," the Sergeant agreed in a placating tone. "Wotever you say."

Vanessa just grinned at them, drumming with idle abandon upon the barrel, her percussive thumps helping to hide the noise coming from within.

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The rat looked to be around Percival's own age - which, comparing rats to ferrets, made her slightly smaller than Percy. Which, in turn, made the unfortunate rodent the perfect target. So, with Chevelle in tow, Percy walked right up to the rat and punched her in the face.

Some of the adult rats looking on sniggered at this display of unprovoked aggression, accustomed to such behavior through living and serving in a horde. But most looked on aghast, for such things were not supposed to happen at Redwall, and a few found themselves stoked to anger at the toddler ferret's display.

The struck ratmaid's pained bawling drew the immediate attention of her older brother Drattell, who stormed over to Percy and dealt the ferret a shove that almost knocked him off his footpaws. "'ey, what'd you go an' do that fer, stripeyface? How'd y' like me t' knock out yer front fangs?"

"Don't talka Persee likka that!" Chevelle told Drattell, and kicked the older rat hard in the shin, eliciting a yelp of surprise and setting Drattell to hopping about on one footpaw as he clutched at his bruised leg.

Drattell's pal Tristan lunged forward and smacked Chevelle across the ears - so Chevelle twisted, leapt and kicked Tristan in the shin as well.

Drattell and Tristan jointly tackled the much younger hare, leading Percy to start pummeling them both. More rat youths, who'd been gathered together waiting on Winokur's morning lessons, waded into the fray.

Pirkko, who happened to be passing nearby in the company of Droge, Budsock, Pryle and Meggette, found his attention drawn to the budding fracas, just as shrews by their quarrelsome nature sniff out any such altercation close to paw. "Hey, those vermin're gangin' up on Pearce an' one of our bunnies! They can't do that! Let's get 'em!" Pirkko flung himself into the melee with unhesitating abandon. Droge and Budsock, seeing their shrew friend was sure to be outnumbered, rushed to his aid, while the two riverside mice stood back in alarm, not sure what to do.

Seeing this infusion of woodlander reinforcements rushing to the aid of the two troublemakers who'd started it all, some of the adult rats stepped forward to put an end to this, incensed at this assault on their youngsters but also concerned about any such outbreak of disruptive behavior which might jeopardize their position of sanctuary within the Abbey.

And some of the Guosim guarding the rat refugees, seeing grown and gruff rats closing in on their Log-a-Log's son, moved in themselves to quell what looked to be a riot in the making. "Keep yer blades sheathed, boyos!" one shouted out to his comrades. "This's a scrape, not a battle! We'll put this ruckus down with good ol' fashioned shrew power!"

Thus is was that Percy's single punch, in almost no time at all, transformed the tranquil grounds around the orchard into the scene of an altercation drawing in dozens ... and Operation Synchronized Pandemonium was only just getting started.

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At that same moment, Faylona decided this would be the perfect time to go for a swim in the Abbey pond.

The fact that she did not know how to swim deterred her not in the slightest.

With so much attention drawn to the commotion unfolding amongst the rats over by the orchard, nobeast paid the toddler hare any notice as she waded in, first up to her ankles, then knees, then waist, then finally up to her chest and beyond. Before any adult on the scene realized what was happening, Faylona was out in water over her head, splashing and shrieking in frantic distress.

Needless to say, the otters responded to her cries first.

Young Wronk - fully recovered from his less-than-auspicious turn as Deyna the Taggerung earlier that season - led the diving charge to the rescue, along with several adult otters of Monty's crew. As many of the other Abbey creatures and visitors gathered on the pond's banks, their focus split between the tussle over in the rat encampment and this new emergency, the waterbeasts swam out to recover Faylona and bear her to dry land again before her tiny lungs filled with water.

Maura stood among the shorebound onlookers, shaking her head over this potential tragedy in the making. "What was Melanie thinking, letting Fay wander off by herself unminded like that? I'll have to have a word with that hare when I see her ... "

"I do hope she's going to be all right," fretted Deakyne from beside her. "I'd hate to have something dreadful happen during our stay at Redwall ... um, not that I'd want it to happen at any other time either, of course."

Maura cast a worried glance over toward where the rats and shrews were mixing it up royally. "I really should go see what that's all about, since it looks from here as if some of our youngsters might be involved in it. And isn't that your son and daughter standing out on the fringes of the brawl? But I need to make sure Faylona's safe first."

"If the young hare can't swim," Lord Sodexo observed from Maura's other side, "how did she get so far out into the pond at all?"

The otter Webber trudged up out of the water bearing Faylona's limp form in his arms, while his companions followed him up onto the lawns. Laying the hare lass out face-up on the grass, he performed a quick examination of her.

"Well?" Maura prompted as she hovered over them, voicing the question shared by everybeast present. "Do Arlyn and Metellus need to be summoned? Please dear fates tell me we're not too late ... "

"Don't think that'll be a worry, marm," Webber pronounced after very short order. "She's breathin' a'right, an' her heart's pumpin' strong. Aside from bein' soggy as a sardine, she's fit as any of us! Exceptin' mebbe Wronkers over there ... "

Maura's attention shifted from the unconscious toddler to the adolescent otter lad, who stood rubbing at his temple. "Why? What's wrong with Wronk?"

"Hit my head on a waterlogged barrel," he answered for himself. "Wasn't there when we took our swim yesterday."

"A barrel?" Maura repeated, incredulous.

"Several of 'em, actshully," Webber clarified. "Laid out like steppin' stones, smallest t' largest, straight away from shore toward th' pond's center. That's what allowed this liddle 'un t' get so far out. But Wronk's right: they weren't out there yesterday. That's why he conked his headbone - wasn't expectin' 'em t' be there, an' since he was first in, he ran into 'em first too."

"Barrels?" Maura looked down at Faylona again - just in time to catch the harechild sneaking a mischievous peek at her through a slitted eye before quickly closing it again. Her own eyes widening in confused consternation, Maura looked from Faylona in her pretend swoon to the altercation by the orchard, and then up to the walltop beyond where Vanessa loitered with a barrel of her own.

"What in the name of Martin is going on here?" she muttered to herself.

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While all of this went on by the pond and orchard, Lysander chose that moment to do his best impersonation of a squirrel. Or perhaps it was a Sparra - but the end result was the same.

Melanie had by this time joined her husband on watch above the main gates, and the two of them failed to notice their toddler son working his way along the ramparts toward them, distracted as they were by the twin commotions unfolding across the Abbey. It was Melanie who first sighted the leveret as Lysander paused a few dozen paces north of them, his intent gaze upon the crenelated battlements to his right.

"Clewy, wot th' blazes is Lysander doing up here on his own?! Maura's supposed to be watching over the levs this morning. I'll have to have a word with that badger!"

Gazing across the south lawns, Clewiston advised, "Wouldn't hold it against her too hard, Mel m' gel. Looks like she's mixed up in wotever kerfuffle's going on down there, an' may have her paws jolly well full. Knowin' how willful an' precocious our brood can be, wouldn't be surprised if one or two've slipped their bally leash an' wandered off on their own. At least Lys showed the good sense to seek out his mater 'n' pater. We'll just hafta mind him until Maura's done with that little bruhaha down there."

"I guess we - Lysander, wot're you doing? Get down from there!"

Assuming their son not to be in any particular danger, and trusting to the ingrained Long Patrol sense of self-preservation, neither parent had felt any urgent need to rush right over to Lysander upon spotting him - which gave the leveret the opportunity he needed to climb clumsily up onto the stone bench nearest him, and from there up onto the battlements themselves, with the rampart walkway on one side and a sheer drop on the other. Seeing her son gain the bench, Melanie went into a jog; seeing him attain the far more perilous perch atop the defensive wall, she went into a flat-out run, with Clewiston not far behind.

But they weren't quick enough.

Lysander smiled and waved, then his smile faltered along with his balance and, pinwheeling his tiny arms, he tumbled over the side.

"_LYSANDER!_"

"Oh, bloody sod!"

Clewiston practically had to hold Melanie back when they reached the spot where Lysander had toppled from the parapet, to keep her from throwing herself over after him. Leaning far out over the battlements herself, she stared down at the outside ground below. "Oh, Clewy, he's fallen all the way down! He's not moving!"

"Not doin' th' lad any bloody good up here, Mel. Come on, let's get down to him, an' see wot's to be done!" Leading the way and taking the steps down to the lawns two at a time, Clewiston bellowed, "Youngbeast over th' wall! Youngbeast over th' wall! Get those gates open!"

The day shift of shrews, reacting more to the urgency of the hare officer's tone than the words themselves, scrambled to dislodge the drawbar and get the heavy gates swung wide. And when the two hares raced out onto the path and then along the base of the wall to reach their fallen son, every shrew followed, none thinking to stay behind to guard the area inside the gates ...

And thus none saw Troyall, peeking around the edge of the gatehouse cottage, tippaw out once the coast was clear and let himself into the small residence with a tiny lit lantern.

Clewiston and Melanie knew at once that something was amiss as they came upon Lysander, and not in any way they could have anticipated. For, as they drew up to their progeny's landing spot, they saw what Melanie could not have made out from the walltop: a deep, wide bed of moss and dried grasses, nearly as deep as the leveret's own standing height, piled up against the stone face exactly where it would break Lysander's fall, and nowhere else.

"Wot kind of flippin' game is this?" Clewiston muttered as he stared down at his son, who now sat up on his plush natural cushion, beaming up at them. "You mean t' tell me this was all just some kind o' warped, twisted, demented _joke_?"

Melanie knelt and grabbed little Lysander close to her, incredulous that he could have weathered such a plummet unscathed ... or that anybeast could have conceived such a prank that left her heart in her mouth and tears streaming down her cheeks. Checking him over to make sure he was as unharmed as he seemed, she hugged him tight. "Oh, Lysander! Don't you _ever_ scare us like that again, do you hear?"

The shrews stood looking on in puzzlement themselves. "Hey, who put all that moss there anyway?"

"Dunno," Clewiston growled, immensely relieved and intensely incensed at one and the same time. "But when I find out, some hide's gettin' tanned courtesy of my parade baton, you mark my bally words!"

"Reckon we'd best get 'im inside fer Arlyn 'n' Metellus to have a look at 'im, just t' make sure 'ee's ... "

The shrew's words trailed off as they all became aware of a new strident alarm shouted from above, this time from the squirrels who'd remained at their walltop posts after the hares' panicked evacuation.

"Fire! Fire! The gatehouse is on fire!"

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Sergeant Peppertail's vantage atop the wall overlooking the orchard afforded him a unique overview of everything that was unfolding within Redwall.

Immediately below him, the Guosim sought to sort out the brawl started by Percy and Chevelle. Farther out near the banks of the pond, a large knot of concerned creatures clustered around the youngbeast who'd been pulled from the water. And away to the western grounds, the main gates stood open and unguarded while smoke billowed from the gatehouse cottage. It seemed as if pandemonium had broken out all over the Abbey - which, indeed, it had, and quite by design.

"Great gallopin' seasons!" the hare exclaimed. "Has the whole world gone batty all of a sudden?"

"Oh, it's about to get even better," Vanessa told him as she ceased her drumming on the barrel. Leaning down close to the keg and placing her paws to its convex sides as if communing with it, she brought her face close to the aged wood and softly murmured, "Be savage but gentle, my little friends. Inflict many, but cause serious harm to nobeast."

Then, straightening, she dealt the barrel an assured kick that sent it over the side of the walkway and plummeting down to smash open upon a hard-packed patch of ground just alongside the rat encampment. The pre-weakened hoops gave way entirely as the old vessel shattered into its individual staves, revealing the nest of agitated hornets hidden within.

Almost immediately, the hornets began to swarm.

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The clashing shrews and rats (and youngbeasts too) quickly forgot their differences of the moment when the stinging insects descended upon them, and those gathered around Faylona by the pond were soon put on the run as well, along with most of the encamped rats, as that entire quadrant of the Abbey grounds was thrown into pained, panicked turmoil. Beasts of every species were set running this way and that in attempts to elude the riled hornets, but most found their efforts futile as they felt the hot, burning stings on ears, snouts, arms, legs and tails ... although, as would come out later, by some inexplicable fluke no victim suffered more than a single sting anywhere on their body.

Most of the otters, spotting the angry swarm before it hit them, drew deep breaths and dove into the pond to escape it. Maura scooped up Faylona and sprinted for the far side of the Abbey, seeking to put the main building between herself and the buzzing stingers, but still endured a hit on her fleeing tail even as she successfully shielded her leveret burden from any such harm.

The main part of the molested, threatened masses made for the Abbey itself, seeking the safety of indoors. The sheer number of sanctuary-seekers (and the rats were cast anew in that light in a different way than they ever would have imagined) created a bottleneck at the door, with stricken creatures jostling and elbowing to get in first, until the Guosim laid about with their gruff voices and the occasional fist to impose some slight order upon the scene. Fortunately, the hornets did not seem to be pressing the attack this far from the orchard, and some semblance of stressed, nervous calm settled over the crowd.

In all that frantic melee, it was very easy for a single beast to get lost amid the confusion.

Castor grabbed Latura by the paw when the attack began, thinking to lead her to the shelter of the gatehouse where they'd been spending their nights. Upon seeing that refuge in flames - or at least spewing smoke, hinting at a conflagration within - Castor had faltered, unsure what to do. In the rush of colliding bodies, the agony of punishing stings and the horror of the furious drone overlaying the entire scene, brother and sister became separated, Castor carried by the stampeding throngs toward the main Abbey while the living current swept around Latura and passed her by, leaving her standing befuddled upon the lawns in the midst of the riot.

And then, weaving her way through the madness as if it didn't affect her at all, came Vanessa, practically skipping with glee. Prancing right up to the ratmaid, the badger-painted former Abbess smacked Latura across her flimsy biceps. "Tag! Ye're it, Lattie Ratty!" And then Vanessa took off toward the east grounds, seemingly oblivious to the miniature disaster she'd wrought all around her.

Latura stood staring after the retreating mouse wide-eyed and slack-jawed, even more dumbfounded than was usual for her. That brief contact, that fleeting slap of a playful open paw against her own flesh, evoked flashes of prescient insight before her inner eye, the tantalizing temptation of a mystery half-revealed, begging to have the veil pulled away entirely. She almost knew in that instant why this perplexing mousemaid baffled her so - almost, but not quite.

A hornet buzzed into Latura's open mouth and, finding nothing there of particular interest, buzzed back out again.

The slap had been an invitation, a summons, an edict not to be ignored. Automatically, Latura started to follow after Vanessa, but a sudden tug on her arm held her back. Turning, she saw Palter grabbing her, urgency in his expression.

"Lattie, where're y' goin'? We gotta get inside!"

She shook her head and tried to pull away - a battle of weaklings. "Hafta see what's inside that mouse. Hafta follow 'er."

"Ain't no time fer - yeow!" A diving hornet buried its stinger deep within the paw holding Latura, forcing Palter to release his poor excuse of a grip and suck on the wound, once he'd finished waving it in pain. "Yeow yeow yeow! Mmrphgh - hey, Lattie! Lattie, come back 'ere!"

Matowick, holding his ground on the east side of the Abbey, saw Maura go running by him with Faylona in her arms, the big beast cursing and grumbling. And not long after that he beheld Vanessa traipsing toward him, grinning and waving as she headed toward the now-unguarded wallgate, all the shrews and otters there drawn away by the brawl and the pretend near-drowning. "It's time!" she called out to him. "Here she comes!"

And then, to the Gawtrybe Captain's utter amazement, Latura came jogging his way in her unmistakable peach dress, totally alone and unguarded. Too flabbergasted to stir himself, he simply watched as the ratmaid followed in Vanessa's pawsteps toward the east wallgate. So fixated was he on his target that he didn't even realize the Abbess had exited Redwall entirely, leaving the gate standing wide open after her.

Latura hesitated at the egress, uncertain what to do. Then, glancing to her left and right, she ducked into the portal and passed under the wall to the forest beyond.

The sight of Latura slipping out of the Abbey stirred Matowick to action at last. Keeping his gaze over his shoulder at the open gate and still scarcely believing this turn of events, he started for the south grounds where everybeast seemed to be ... and almost ran right into Palter, feebly racing after Latura himself.

"Watch where you're going!" Matowick berated the hapless rat, but then spared the scrawny rodent no further thought as he resumed his run to find his fellow Gawtrybe.

Palter stood watching the Northlands squirrel for a moment, then looked back to the gate. Never the most astute of creatures, even he could piece together what was going on. The enemy soldier had seen Latura exit the Abbey, and now seemed driven to strong purpose as a result. And that could mean only one thing.

"Oh, Lattie, what've y' done?" Palter groaned to himself, and then crossed the rest of the empty grounds to the east wallgate. Pausing before it just as Latura had, he took a gulp and then hastened through it himself into Mossflower.

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Matowick somehow managed to find two of his squad right away on the fringes of the creatures trying to squeeze through the door into the Abbey. Ignoring the sting he'd suffered traversing the swarm zone, the Gawtrybe captain pulled his two comrades out of the mob and off to the side so that they might not be so easily overheard by the rats, Guosim and Redwallers.

"Our target's just left the Abbey!" he shouted at them. "Now's the chance we've been looking for! Brisson, come with me - we're going out after her! Flaquer, go round up Nixalis and the others as fast as you can, gather up all our weapons and go out through the west gates, in case she tries to circle around and come back in that way! If I can overtake her in the forest, I'll bring her back to the road and we'll leave straight for Salamandastron! We've not a moment to lose!"

"What about Captain Saugus, sir?" asked Flaquer.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Then forget him for now. He'll catch up to us once he figures out what's happened. Now let's get moving!"

Matowick and Brisson were racing back for the open east wallgate almost at once, meeting no opposition, no questioners and no witnesses on the abandoned grounds. "Sir, what about our weapons?"

"I doubt we'll need arms to snatch one weakling ratmaid all by herself," Matowick shot back, forgetting all about Palter - and Vanessa too, for that matter. "Besides, Chetwynd's patrols are out there, guarding the approaches to Redwall. They're as likely as not to come across her before we do - and they'll be very well armed!"

"You think the Redwallers will let us get away with her? We'll have to come right past the Abbey on our way back. We'll be spotted."

"Maybe, maybe not. In all this chaos, they may miss us. The Abbess has certainly done a good job of giving us the diversion we wanted!"

"The Abbess? Sir, what're you talking about?"

"I'm not really sure myself, Briss. But as long as the breaks are breaking our way, I'm not about to question them!"

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Melanie stood back from the smoking gatehouse as the others worked to straighten out the situation there; she clutched little Lysander's paw tightly, as much for her own peace of mind as to keep him out of any further trouble.

Clewiston wiped at his watering eyes as he regarded the oversized laundry tub he and the Guosim had finally managed to drag out of the cottage onto the lawns, its nest of straw within still smoldering furiously. Their discovery that the gatehouse itself had not been set alight scarcely rendered the calamity any easier to deal with, requiring the removal of the incendiary arrangement from the structure - no mean feat to achieve without burned paws or smoke-choked lungs.

The Colonel shook his head in grudging admiration. "Whoever rigged this up knew exactly wot they were doing. Damp straw that would smoke like the devil without makin' too hot a fire, contained in a heavy tub that'd keep it from spreadin' an' burnin' the whole bloomin' lot down to bare stone. Just the thing to make it look like the gatehouse was totally ablaze inside, without causing any real an' permanent damage. Fiendishly clever, I must say, even if they'll get no blinkin' medal from me!"

The shrew Klugo cast his gaze toward the orchard, even though only a few rats remained there trying to ride out the hornet swarm hunkered down in their shelters instead of seeking the protection of the main Abbey. "Reckern t'was one o' them verminy villains who did it?"

"Not jolly likely, since some of 'em sleep in there, including the one they all think led them here to safety. Wot sense'd that make?"

"Maybe it was those squirrels?" suggested another of the Guosim. "Seems like th' kinda trouble they'd wanna make."

"Well, did anybeast here see who might've hauled that heavy tub into the gatehouse in the first place? Took all of us workin' t'gether to muscle it out just now, so this can't be some prank by our youngsters 'n' leverets, even if Lysander's little pratfall off the wall just now coincides a tad too neatly with all this other mischief. Alex and our rat friends an' all the rest of us have been keeping too jolly close an eye on those Gawtrybe, at least when they're out and about on the grounds, so I doubt they could've pulled this off without us seein'."

"Well," said Klugo, "if it weren't them, an' it wasn't th' rats themselves, an' it couldn'ta been any of our young pranksters, who does that leave?"

"Who indeed?" Clewiston's gaze went to Melanie, and their thumb-sucking son standing at her side. ""Little Lys is too young yet to give any answer we'd easily understand, but I'll bet his niece Faylona and nephew Chevelle might have something to tell us about all of this. Assuming their mouths aren't swollen shut by hornet stings ... "

Klugo waved the air in front of his snout to clear it. "That's one good thing 'bout all this smoke: at least it's keepin' those furforsaken stingers away from this area. Y' reckern we oughta go see if we c'n lend a paw gettin' ev'erybeast inside the Abbey?"

Clewiston mulled this over. "Naw, looks like they've got enuff creatures there t' worry about without us adding to the jolly mob. We'd prob'ly only end up gettin' in the way, an' gettin' stung ourselves, addin' to the overflow in the Infirmary. 'sides, somebeast's gotta stay here an' guard the entrance, 'specially if this's some kinda diversion intended to leave us open to attack. Speakin' of which, we'd best send out a couple of you shrew chappies to make sure all our gates are staffed. Looks like most of our lookouts are down from the south an' west ramparts, an' by my eye there's only hornets guardin' the south wallgate."

"We'll see to that, Colonel!" volunteered Elmwood, who'd come down from the walltop with his companions to help with the gatehouse fire.

"Right ho. But, won't that leave the west battlements empty?"

"Shouldn't matter, just for a little bit. Just get those gates closed and locked, and it wouldn't matter if Cluny's own horde sprang up out there! We'll get some lookouts back up topside in good time, once we've seen to everything within the Abbey."

"It's more a certain badger's own horde springin' up on us I'm worried about," the Colonel muttered as the Redwall squirrels jogged off to see to matters elsewhere in the Abbey. But before he and the Guosim could move to close and bar the west gates, the hare commander spied Nixalis and three of the other visiting Gawtrybe racing full tilt across the lawns toward them. Thinking at first that their headlong pace meant pursuit by hornets, Clewiston saw he was mistaken when they made straight for their weapons lying on the lawns nearby.

"Hey!" Klugo snapped, moving to intercept them. "No weapons while ye're in the Abbey - that was the agreement!"

"Out of our way!" Nixalis roared, all but knocking the smaller creature off his footpaws. "We're leaving - an' we're taking our weapons with us!"

Clewiston stepped over to the hurriedly-outfitting squirrels. "I say, wot's the dashed rush, chappies?" He'd almost asked them, "Where's the fire?" but didn't think it appropriate under the circumstances.

"Never you mind," Nixalis snapped, shouldering his own bow and quiver and then stooping to retrieve Matowick's as well. "We're leaving, and that's all you need to know!"

"Fair 'nuff. Have it your way, chum." Clewiston and his Guosim companions stood back as the quartet of Northlanders streamed through the open gate into the path beyond.

"Hey, that was only four of 'em!" Klugo remarked. "Where're the other two?"

Clewiston motioned to the now-empty spot on the grass alongside the piles of confiscated rat armaments. "Don't think it matters, since wherever they got to, they won't be armed. Now let's get these gates closed, 'fore they change their minds an' want back in!"

As the group of defenders put their backs into closing the gates and repositioning the drawbar, Klugo joked, "Mebbe they just ain't fond o' hornets, heh!"

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Latura raced through the woods after Vanessa with halting assurance, only vaguely certain which way the mysterious, mischievous mouse had headed. And yet, she also knew instinctively when she deviated from the path of pursuit, when her pawsteps threatened to lead her astray, almost as if some invisible trail of breadcrumbs had been put down for her to follow, a trail perceived by her spirit rather than seen with the eye.

Given the glimpse she'd spied into the former Abbess when Vanessa slapped her, this hardly surprised Latura at all.

At one point she stumbled almost directly under two of Chetwynd's Gawtrybe patrollers in the limbs overhead, but since Vanessa had preceded her along this path, the gazes of the squirrel pair stayed elsewhere, nor did they particularly hear the sounds of Latura's heavy breath and clumsy progress. Thus did the ratmaid press her way through nearer Mossflower, within woods that would normally have been considered in the shadow of Redwall but nowadays lay under a shadow much darker.

She came at last upon Vanessa, kneeling over a tiny trickle of a stream along soft mossy banks, the morning sun through the trees casting a halo of light around the scene. Vanessa splashed her face with water, and worked her paws through her fur, washing away the mock badger mask. When she finally looked up to acknowledge Latura, she'd regained the semblance of an ordinary tawny-furred mouse, even if Latura knew just how far from ordinary this mouse was.

"Can't figger you out," the ratmaid muttered as Vanessa sopped at her damp face with the hem of her tunic; somewhere along the way she'd also jettisoned the robe of her Badger Lord disguise, now appearing more the part of a normal, run-of-the-mill woodlander. "Can't figger you out t'all. Th' parts don't all fit right ... livin', dead, maid, malebeast, peace, war ... an' what was that badger get-up 'bout?"

"Oh, that? Just being silly - a bit of fun and games to help recruit the young ones to my purpose. Although I've known my badgers in my day, indeed I have - Bella, and Boar, and Rowanoak too. And these days badgers seem to loom very large, don't they? One in particular ... but no, there was no great significance to my play-acting in this case. That's all it was, a bit of play."

"Oh. Cuz I was wond'rin'. When you touched me, I saw so much, but t'weren't any stripedog in it, so I got confused."

"It was time," Vanessa announced, settling herself down on a natural tussock formed by a mossy rock, and gesturing for Latura to join her on an adjacent fallen log. "Make yourself comfortable, and I'll answer all your questions. We don't have much time; they'll be here soon."

Accepting the invitation, Latura hiked up the hem of her beloved peach dress and kick-splashed her way across the brook, seating herself opposite the mouse as bidden. She screwed her features up hard, as if trying to will the creature before her to resolve itself into something she could understand. "Er, what's yer name again?"

The other smiled at Latura, a smile of supreme benevolence surpassing what any mortal creature could possibly know. It was an expression the ratmaid had seen before, in her dreams and once, staring down at her from a magnificent tapestry hanging on display within a haven of sanctuary for her kind.

"My name is Martin," said the mouse on the rocks before her. "Martin the Warrior."


	3. Chapter 75

**CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE**

Palter blundered after Latura as best he could during her flight from the Abbey, catching glimpses of her colorful peach dress through the trees just often enough to keep from losing her altogether. A few times he called ahead to her, but if she heard him at all, she ignored him entirely. And so she drew him farther into the woods, and farther from Redwall, in her inexplicable dash from the bosom of safety into potential mortal peril.

With each hesitant, fearful step, Palter flinched and quailed, imagining shadows of menace lurking behind every trees and shrub, convinced he would be swept up by Gawtrybe patrollers at any moment. Thus he remained oblivious to the irony when he stumbled along directly beneath the same two Northland squirrels Latura herself had passed. But this time, no charm or spell blinded their eyes or muffled their hearing, and they were only too well aware of the puny rat meandering through their cordon in his haphazard pursuit.

One of the Gawtrybe signaled silently to his partner that he meant to drop down and apprehend the wayward fugitive, but she held a paw to her lips and shook her head. Waiting until Palter had ventured safely beyond earshot, she whispered in reply to his quizzical gaze, "That rat's not trying to get to Redwall; he coming _from_ the Abbey! He must be one of the ones who's been sheltering there."

"Yeah, I thought he was going the wrong way," the male squirrel acknowledged in a soft murmur of his own. "But why would he do such a thing? Doesn't he know what awaits any rat who strays beyond the Abbey walls?"

"He must, unless he's a total imbecile. This could be important. Captain Custis thought those rats might wear out their welcome at Redwall sooner rather than later, and maybe that's finally started to happen. We need to question him, find out whether he was kicked out and what for, or if he left on his own and why - and whether any of this fellow rats have also left or been expelled, or might be in the near future. This is our chance to find out where things really stand with those Abbeybound rats, whether the Redwallers are getting sick of them at last, or even if they might be turning on each other, rat against rat. So for now, let's shadow him for a bit, and see where he's going. If he starts to get too far outside our zone, we can just drop down and take him when it suits us."

Her comrade nodded, but then had second thoughts. "What if he's a decoy, meant to draw us away while a larger group makes its escape?"

"We'll not be abandoning our place in the cordon - just ranging out a bit further. Any others seeking to flee will still have to get by us, or else they'll be picked up by the other patrols. We've got that Abbey bottled up tight from all sides; no rat is getting through, coming or going, without us spotting them!"

"I suppose. But what if he wanders into a glade or open area where we can't tail him from the trees anymore?"

"Then we show ourselves and nab him. But now he _is_ getting too big a lead on us. Let's stop debating and get moving, before we risk losing him altogether!"

Moments later the two Gawtrybe were joined in stealthy arboreal pursuit, and Palter had unknowingly picked up the very shadow he'd feared all along.

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"There's so much I'd like to tell you, and so much you deserve to know. But sadly, I've a feeling you'd not be able to understand even half of what I have to say."

Latura stared at the mouse with the same vacantly rapt expression she'd held since crossing the brook and taking her seat on the fallen log. "Aw, you can tell me, Martymouse. Now that I know it's you, ye're a lot easier t' figger out now ... er ... "

That smile again. "Yes, I suppose I am." The smile turned more wistful, almost melancholy. "I needed you to come here, to cut through the barrier holding me back and keeping me from fully inhabiting this body. Until now, I was a simpleton in this world, reduced to an uncontrolled, juvenile state, and I must be whole for what lies ahead. Only your power could counter Urthblood's, push back the veil of his suffocating presence and let light shine through the shadow he's cast over Redwall, and Mossflower. That's why I helped you, guided you, and did what I could to make sure you and your company reached the Abbey safely."

"Still nearly didn't. Almost ran inta th' bad red, 'fore we got to Greenpup in th' big rock pit."

"I wasn't the only one pulling strings in that affair, unfortunately. And as badly as I needed you to get to Redwall, my adversary wanted just as badly to waylay you. It was a very near thing. But in the end, it all worked out ... and here we are."

"Didja also make that fog nobeast could see through?"

The smile took on a playful aspect. "I'm not _that_ powerful. And Urthblood isn't either. Sometimes the weather is just weather."

Latura pondered this in her own imponderable way, then glanced about at the fresh green woods. "It's nice out here. I oughta get out more often ... "

"You can't stay, you know. At Redwall. I'm sorry, but you simply can't."

Latura looked at the mouse in puzzlement. "Aren'tcher gonna take me back, Martymouse?"

"No, Latura. I'm not."

"But y' could. Right past all 'em bad red beasties. You'd just make 'em not see or hear us, like before."

"Yes, I could. But that would rather defeat the whole purpose in luring you out here in the first place, wouldn't it?"

Latura mulled this over. "Yah, guess it would. What if I promise t' be good, an' not cause trouble t' nobeast? Can I go back then?"

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. Your power isn't entirely under your control, and there's no telling what would happen if you stayed." Seeing the unconvinced look on Latura's face, the mouse went on, "Lady Mina meant to slay you, you know, and was only a heartbeat away from doing just that. Did I make her bow break, or did you? Even I cannot say for certain. As much as you have cleared the way for me, things also get confused around you. You make things happen, without trying, without even realizing you're doing it. Maybe it's not so much you, as some kind of protective shroud of fate surrounding you, which bends events to your favor. Like it did with Krayne."

Latura took exception to this. "I ain't never kilt nobeast."

"My view says otherwise. The blood bubble in Krayne's head would undoubtedly have claimed him on its own, and soon, but you pushed it along, picked the time and place. Do you honestly believe it was pure coincidence that he keeled over at the exact moment you most needed him to? Maybe you didn't intend to make it happen, but you - or whatever's protecting you - did."

Latura sat in silence for several moments. "I kilt th' foxy ... "

"Let's just say you hastened his imminent and likely inevitable demise, in a manner advantageous to your circumstances."

"Ooo, now ye're usin' too big words."

"Your talents are wild, Latura, in a way I've never seen before. Untamed, unpredictable. In your own way, you are perhaps every bit as powerful as Urthblood is ... or as I am. But your powers are those of havoc and chaos, liable to lash out in any direction, no matter whether goodbeasts are in the way or not. If a creature means you harm, they will be harmed. Not always, not in every instance, but just enough to protect you, and hold you to the path you're fated to follow. And that is a force I cannot allow at my Abbey."

"Then where do I go? What happens to me now?"

"What does your future sight tell you?"

Latura squinted, furrowing her brow. "Can't really tell. Never been good at that. I'm fine fer seein' what happens to other beasts, but not so much fer m'self."

"Then that's a limitation to your gifts that must be inherent to their nature. 'The seer hides the seer' ... and in this case, your very talents may veil your future from you. In my own case, I remain hindered by Urthblood's presence ... and yours. I'm afraid I cannot see your future any better than you can, so I cannot tell you what lies ahead for you. I know only that Urthblood is determined to bring you before him - and in this case he will probably get his way, since I will not oppose him. Whether your own powers will frustrate him in this ambition ... " The mouse shrugged. "That's between you and him now."

"Don't wanna go to th' bad red. He's mean 'n' scary. Wanna stay here in th' good red, with Da an' my brudder, an' all you nice beasties, even if y' do laugh at me sometimes. Wanna stay cozy an' safe."

"Every rat now within our walls owes its freedom and perhaps its very life to you. To them, you will always be their savior. But what you have won for them cannot be for you. Your destiny lies elsewhere, but what that destiny is I cannot say. It may well be that when you come to stand before Urthblood, he will slay you outright. I'm certain that's what he intends."

"Will it be his paw takes my head?"

"It may very well be. Such a fate would solve everything very neatly, for everybeast concerned. It is, in its own way, the best possible outcome."

"Aw, that ain't a very nice thing t' say, Martymouse."

"Not nice, but necessary. The path before you now will not be an easy one; that much I can tell you even without any gift of future sight. Perhaps you will survive your ordeal against all odds, and whatever forces that have protected you so far will continue to do so. Perhaps you may even return to Mossflower someday, and see your friends and family again. And perhaps your fate is to perish before this season is out. Fate looms large in these times, with competing players seeking to bend it to their will, even as you seek to defy them. It may well be that somewhere out there now lies a blade ordained to take your head, but which blade, wielded by whose paw, remains closed to me. I am releasing you upon the world, Latura of Redwall, but what the world does to you - and what you do to the world - is a story yet to be written."

"Is that who I am now? Lattie o' Redwall?"

The smile returned, warm and yet sad. "If you want to be. Although it won't be in the way you imagine."

A haphazard rustling in the undergrowth nearby made them both turn to see Palter breaking in upon their scene, drawn to them by the sound of their voices. The mouse on the rock frowned. "He's not supposed to be here."

"Actshully, I think 'ee is ... "

"Lattie, what's got inta yer head? What're y' thinkin', leavin' Redwall like this? We gotta get back, 'fore any of them devil squirrels realize we're out here an' slap us in chains!"

Latura shook her head. "Martymouse 'ere sez I can't go back."

"Martymouse?" Palter looked at the former Abbess in befuddlement. "Who's that? Lattie, what're you talkin' 'bout? Let's get goin'!"

Before he could argue further, the two Gawtrybe who'd been silently tailing him from above dropped out of the trees right alongside Palter, practically scaring him out of his fur. The male squirrel, more than a physical match for the slight rat, seized Palter by the arm, while the female nocked an arrow to her bowstring to cover the two seated creatures.

"Don't move! You're coming with us!"

The two squirrels were almost stunned when Latura and her mouse companion said, in perfect unison as if speaking with one mind, "That's silly. How can we go with you if we don't move?" Latura looked to the mouse. "'kay, that was real weird ... "

The Gawtrybe covering them lowered her bow slightly, staring at the mouse with no sense of recognition. "Who ... are you?"

"Somebeast you didn't want to meet. Now we all have to wait for your captain to get here, because you aren't the right squirrels."

"Our captain? What trickery is ... this?" The two Gawtrybe blinked as one, along with Palter, the three of them sharing a sudden burst of disorientation, as if time had elapsed without their awareness. The sound of other beasts approaching drew the squirrels' gazes, and they gaped as one at the sudden appearance of Matowick, with Brisson at his heels. The Gawtrybe of Chetwynd's Abbey cordon hadn't even realized their comrades from Salamandastron were at Redwall. "Captain! What are you doing here?"

Matowick pointed at Latura as he fought to regain his breath. "This rat is coming with us, back to Salamandastron, Lord Urthblood's orders. Help us get her to the road - we're leaving at once!"

"What about this one?" The male patroller fairly shook Palter by way of indication.

"He's all yours. We have to travel fast and light, in case the Redwallers give pursuit. We can't have any other prisoners slowing us down."

But Latura was shaking her head at this dismissal of her fellow village rat. "Can't leave 'im behind. He's gotta go with us. Hasta go to sea."

Palter's eyes widened in horror at the implication of this quasi-prophecy, first voiced a seeming lifetime ago in the dread valley of the would-be fox emperor. "No ... no, you can't mean that, Lattie! Tell me that ain't what y' meant! That ain't what happens t' me!"

"Well, he's _not_ going with us," Matowick spat, showing disdain for the very idea as he strode across the brook to take hold of Latura. "My orders are to get one rat, and that rat is you."

Latura eluded Matowick's questing grasp to cross her arms. "You sayin' he doesn't go don't change it. It's what 'appens."

"I'd listen to her if I were you," the mouse advised with aloof detachment, as if wholly above everything that was going on here. "If her prophetic vision has shown this to her, you won't be able to leave without him ... and you'll find your footpaws turned to stone if you even try."

Brisson forestalled further protest from Matowick. "Sir, we can't just let this one go. He'll head straight back to Redwall and raise the alarm. Right now, in all that confusion going on there, our target might not even be missed for quite some time. That's sure to change if this pipsqueak hollers his head off that we've snatched her. We can't let him go free. Not now."

Matowick gritted his teeth as he finally got a firm grip on Latura. "Okay, he comes with us. Now, let's move!"

"But ... but ... " Palter found himself being borne away, one squirrel at each arm, as Matowick and Brisson did likewise with Latura, who barely resisted this treatment.

Casting one last parting glance at the mouse who'd seemingly arranged this all for his benefit, Matowick said, "Tell me again why you're helping us like this?"

"Ask me no questions, Captain, and I'll tell you no lies. Go deliver to Urthblood the prize he seeks - although I'm not sure he'll know what to do with her once he's got her."

"I think you're underestimating Lord Urthblood. He's risking a lot for this one creature, so you can be sure he'll know exactly what to do with her. But I'll be sure to pass your concerns along to him."

"Actually, I'd prefer you didn't. In fact, I'd just as soon you forget I was ever here."

"You'd ... "

"Forget I was here, Captain."

"Saw whatcher did there, Martymouse," Latura said as Matowick and Brisson stood blinking as if momentarily dazed. "Crafty, like a foxy."

And then the four squirrels were off with the two rats, hastening along the forest trails with all the speed their captives' oft-stumbling gaits allowed, and sparing not a backward glance for the mouse who wasn't there.

"Urthblood knows only that Latura poses a threat to him," the mouse on the rock mused in solitude, "but I know _how_ she poses a threat to him."

Then the lone figure jumped down from the mossy seat and splashed across the brook to make its invisible way back to Redwall.

00000000000

"Have the hornets stopped swarming yet?"

"Don't rightly know, Abbot. You're jolly well welcome to poke your head outside and check for yourself."

"Now, Sergeant, there's no need for that."

Peppertail rubbed at the tender welt next to his scut. "Easy for you to say, Abbot sah. You were safe indoors when they struck, out of range of their blinkin' stings an' arrows."

"Are you positive it was Vanessa who did this? Even in her current state, I cannot bring myself to believe she would hatch such harmful maliciousness. Multiple hornet stings can prove fatal."

"Then I'm whoppin' grateful those needly nuisances only pricked me once. But it most assuredly was Nessa, Abbot, as sure as I'm standin' here. I was standin' right beside her, on the subject of standin', when she uncorked this barbaric barrage on us. She had the nest hid in her barrel th' whole bally time, rollin' it along th' walltop an' drummin' on it to rile them up so they'd be in an ugly temper when she loosed 'em. An' from her attitude an' the things she was spoutin', I'm guessing she had a paw in ev'rything else goin' on out there today. Like she planned on making the whole Abbey go nutters all at once."

"I do hope the damage to the gatehouse wasn't too severe," Geoff fretted, not yet having been appraised of the fact that Vanessa's ruse there had been confined to a large tub which left nothing worse than thick interior smoke and a small scorched mark on the floor of the main room. "It's fortunate indeed that I moved the Abbey Archives down to the tunnels when I was Recorder, or else the losses to our histories and artifacts might have been incalculable, but even so ... " He shook his head in sad consternation. "Whatever could have gotten into her to have conceived and orchestrated something like this?"

Mouse and hare stood near the top of the Cavern Hole stairs, taking in the scene of overcrowded confusion reigning in Great Hall. Most of Harth's rats now lingered in the grand gathering space along with the Guosim and the families of Deakyne and Neblett and Lord Sodexo and scores of Abbeybeasts as well, all having flooded into the Hall in their flight to escape the danger without. Younger creatures still cried and wailed from the pain of their barbed afflictions, while adults yammered on to any ears that would listen about this sabotage of a beautiful Abbey day, raising the noise level to a barely-controlled cacophony. It might as well have been the aftermath of a battle.

"Well, at least now we know we can fit everybeast into Great Hall, if it comes down to it."

"Wouldn't go that far, Abbot. From what I saw, a lot of our rat squatters took to squattin' right where they were in the orchard an' never even tried to make it inside, coverin' up an' hunkerin' down as best they could. Guess they figured they'd be safer sittin' tight an' stayin' put than makin' a run across open ground."

"That might have been wise, considering how much time it took to get everybeast inside, and how long they were exposed to the swarm. Still, I hope those rats in the orchard will be all right. If the hornets don't settle down soon, it could be bad for them. And where have our otters gotten to? I perceive a distinct absence of them here."

"Last I saw," Peppertail reported, "they all dove into the pond to take shelter there. I imagine they're down there still, ridin' this out 'til it blows over. You know how long those riverdogs can hold their breath."

"Ah. Nearest port in a storm, I suppose. And what of Maura? I don't see her anywhere either, and we could really use her to help calm the children."

"Caught a glimpse of her busting her way to the north grounds, with a wet 'n' soggy Faylona in her arms. They're prob'ly still outside, if they've found a spot away from the hornets. Otherwise, it's like as not they let themselves in some other way."

"Yes, I hope so. Ah, here come Arlyn and Metellus. Let's see what they have to say on matters." The Abbey's two healers wandered by Geoff and Peppertail, looking as overwhelmed by events as any pair of beasts could be. Trailing them was Alexander, helping to carry all the salves and balms and medicines from the Infirmary that could be grabbed on short notice. "How are we looking, Arlyn?" the current Abbot inquired of the elder one.

"I think this is going to use up every ounce of tincture we have on paw," came the older mouse's frazzled reply. "We'll likely run out long before every sting is treated, and I don't know if we'll be able to make up more without foraging into Mossflower to replenish our stocks - and that's assuming the herbs we need are to be found at all this early in the growing season. We really aren't equipped or prepared to deal with anything on this scale. A fine surprise to spring on us when we've so many creatures living out of doors!"

"Thank Vanessa the next time you see her," Geoff grumbled, "since by all accounts she's behind today's mayhem."

"Nessa?" said Alex. "Are you sure? That doesn't sound like anything she'd do, even in her wildest moments. And where did she get a hornet's nest from anyway, without getting badly stung herself?"

"Maybe she speaks fluent hornet," Peppertail quipped, not realizing how close to the truth he'd come.

"Where is she now?" asked Arlyn.

"Your guess is as good as mine," the Long Patrol sergeant said. "I lost track of her once she bolted down the wallsteps and disappeared into the bally mob scene. If she was worried at all about gettin' stung herself, she didn't show it one blinkin' whit."

"We'll worry what to do about Vanessa the next time she shows her tail around here; I'm not about to call out a general search to turn her up, not with everything else she's dropped in our laps. Arlyn, Metellus, please concentrate your efforts on the very young and the very old first, along with anybeast else you determine to be in the greatest danger or distress from their stings. The rest will have to wait their turn. Just treat as many as you can, for as long as your medicines last."

"Of course. I'm just glad Mina has stabilized enough that she can safely be left on her own, so that Metellus and I could be spared for this far more daunting task."

"Yes," Geoff surmised, "she must be recovering well indeed, for Alex to have left her side as well. I'm rather surprised to see you down here."

Alexander shrugged. "I doubt she'll be lonely, or neglected. Captain Matowick will probably pick up the vigil, or some of his other Gawtrybe. I've a feeling she'd prefer their company to mine these days anyway."

"I saw some of those bushtails out when the hornets struck," Peppertail told them. "They were in as much of a tizzy as anybeast, runnin' this way an' that an' shoutin' at each other. Hmm ... odd, I don't see any of 'em in here with ev'ryballybeast else."

"See? They're probably up with Mina already." Alex gave a self-satisfied smirk. "It would serve them right if they went up to the Infirmary to have their own stings treated, only to find all the healerbeasts gone!"

"Now, Alex, that's hardly - "

Arlyn cut off his fellow Abbot. "But that can't be; we would have passed them on our way down. The stairs we took are the only direct route from Great Hall to the Infirmary."

"Must still be outside then," Peppertail concluded. "Maybe they jumped into the pond with all the otters!"

At that moment Patreese and Castor made their way through the crowd to approach the Abbey leaders. "Excuse me, sirs," the rat patriarch hesitantly broke in, "but 'as anybeast seen Lattie? We looked all over fer her an' can't find 'er anywhere."

"Oh? Well, if she's not in here amongst all the other casualties, she must not have made it inside," said Geoff. "Could be that when she saw the press of creatures all trying to squeeze through the doorway at once, she ran off to the orchard to join the rats who decided to stay there."

"That'd be some rare sense fer Lattie," observed Castor. "I had 'er by th' paw an' was tryin' t' lead her in here, but we got separated in th' rush, an' I didn't see 'er again after that."

"Hold on," said Alex, ears and tail both pricked to attention. "Lattie never made it in, and neither did any of the Gawtrybe?"

"We don't know about the Gawtrybe," Geoff said. "Some or all of them could still be inside, in some other part of the Abbey. I think at least a couple were here when everybeast else started streaming in to escape the hornets. They could very easily have gotten lost in the confusion. We don't want to jump to any conclusions."

"I'm not jumping to anything." Alex turned to the two rats. "What about Harth? And Captain Truax? Where are they?"

"They're both in here," Patreese replied, "nursin' their stings along with th' rest of us."

"Then we've got to find Lattie - or those squirrels, so that we can account for one or the other." Alexander thrust his armload of medicines into Peppertail's surprised paws. "I'm going out."

"Alex, no!" Geoff protested. "The hornets may still be swarming. You could get badly stung!"

"Then I'll run fast, and use my tail to brush them away." Saying no more, Alex was gone before anybeast could stop him.


	4. Chapter 76

**CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX**

Matowick's group broke out of the forest just to the south of Redwall, close enough to see that no sentries or lookouts peered over the battlements in their direction. The remaining four members of his party from Salamandastron stood at the ready in the road ahead with all of their recovered weapons, waiting to be off the moment their commander rejoined them.

Matowick held his companions and their prisoners back at the forest fringe, pausing before they proceeded out into the open meadow almost literally under the shadow of the Abbey's south wall. "Looks clear," he assessed, "but no guarantee it's going to stay that way much longer. Those hornets could have stopped swarming by now, and there will be Redwallers back on those ramparts soon enough. Get those rats tied up, and then I'll make a sprint for the road with the female and leave the other here for Chetwynd to deal with - whenever he and the rest of his patrols deign to show up. I'm surprised we didn't run into any of them already."

"We're pretty widely dispersed through these woods," the female Gawtrybe explained. "Lots of territory to cover. The way we came was the approach the two of us were assigned to guard, so the others are probably thinking they didn't have to double up along that particular trail."

"Whatever," Matowick said dismissively. "Either way, this is where we split up. Just get her paws bound tight, so we can make good time without her causing us any trouble."

The female's partner produced a coil of rope, standard gear for all pairs of patrolling Gawtrybe who might be required to take prisoners at a moment's notice. "Um, in front or behind her back, Captain?"

"Huh? Oh, in back, I suppose. That'll make it harder for her to try a run for it."

Latura stood unresisting as her paws were pinioned and tied behind her, all her attention on the ill-looking Palter. "Toldja, he's gotta come with us. Gotta go to sea."

"Oh, don't worry, little one; now that he's in our custody, he'll be going to sea all right - just by a different route than ours." Matowick left the securing of the rats to Brisson and the two patrollers as he studied the path before them more intently. Still, nobeast stirred upon the battlements, and his squirrels in the road remained the only creatures to be seen anywhere. Estimating the time it would take to cross the meadow and rejoin his comrades, and then get out into the Western Plains, the situation began to strike him as more hopeful. The ditch posed the biggest challenge; here so close to the Abbey it was too wide to jump, and leading a bound and reluctant captive down into the miniature gorge and back out again might prevent them from gaining the Plains before the Redwallers raised the alarm. They would just need their luck to hold out a little longer ...

"Oh, soft acorns! How did _that_ happen?!"

Matowick recognized the urgent tone of frustration in Brisson's voice before he even turned to see what the trouble was. He stared in disbelief at the sight of Latura, paws bound behind her as ordered, tethered by a slack rope to Palter, whose paws were tied before him.

"Briss, what are those two rats doing tied to each other?"

"Um, can't rightly say, sir ... "

"Well, untie them!"

"Yes sir!"

As Matowick looked on in mounting annoyance, first one squirrel then the other and then the third all tried to undo the knot, each with less success than before. At length the female turned to Matowick in exasperation. "I don't understand it. These knots aren't any configuration I've ever seen before."

"Well, which one of you tied them?"

"Not me."

"Not me either."

"Well, it sure wasn't me!"

The three Gawtrybe glared at each other, challenging their fellows to call them a liar. Matowick turned his own baleful gaze on Latura. "It was you, wasn't it? You made this happen."

"Didn't do nuthin'. He's gotta come with us, an' go to sea. Couldn't be no other way."

"Marvelous. Just marvelous. Okay, we're taking them both - we can't waste any more time here. Let's move!"

The two patrollers accompanied Matowick and Brisson across the meadow to the road, to help make sure the rats caused no trouble - not that that was very likely, with Latura and Palter tied together as they were. However, at their closest approach to the Abbey wall, Palter suddenly yelled out, "Help! Help! We're bein' - " He got no more out before the female squirrel clubbed him to silence with her long bow.

"No more tricks like that, you wretch," she warned, "or else I'll gag you - and trust me, you'll not like what I'll use for a muzzle!"

"Be quiet now," Latura advised her fellow rat with maddening calm - maddening to Palter, at any rate. "Y' gotta come with us. It's th' way things gotta be."

Staggering on his footpaws from the blow, Palter wobbled on after her in their double-time pace set by the Gawtrybe, glancing up at the deserted battlements like a betrayal.

Moments later Nixalis and the rest of the squad were greeting Matowick in the road, even as they continued casting anxious glances of their own toward the walltop - although, unlike Palter, it was with the fervent hope that nobeast would appear there. Nixalis regarded the scrawny male rat tied to their equally slight target. "Two for the price of one, sir?"

"Unexpected baggage. Can't be helped." Matowick accepted his bow, quiver and blade from Nixalis. "Looks like you were all able to slip out without attracting the wrong kind of attention."

"That we were, thanks to that hornet swarm, and a fire in the gatehouse too - they let us run right out through the open gates without anybeast being the wiser. Once they saw what we were about, they even let us grab our weapons without any fuss. And it looks like somebeast has helped us more than that, even." Nixalis and the others led Matowick over to one stretch of the roadside ditch, across which lay three long planks forming a crude span. "Not too sturdy, but I reckon it's good for one crossing."

"Then let's stop standing here admiring it and make use of it!" Matowick enjoined his fellow Gawtrybe.

They wasted no time in doing just that. The six Gawtrybe from Salamandastron, with Latura and Palter between them, crossed single-file along the bending, bowing planks, until all stood in the plains across from Redwall. Flaquer, bringing up the rear, stooped and pulled each plank over to their side of the ditch, so that no creature from the Abbey could use them for pursuit. Then, as the two patrollers from Chetwynd's force retreated back across the meadow to melt into Mossflower Woods once more, Matowick's party struck out into the Western Plains with all the speed they could force from their prisoners, eager to put as much distance between themselves and Redwall as they could before their prize was missed.

00000000000

The swarm had mostly abated when Alex darted out of the Abbey door onto the open grounds, allowing him a moment to stop and take stock of the situation. Upon spying the Colonel and several others clustered by the door to the smoking gatehouse, he abandoned his original plans to make for the orchard first and instead headed toward the west wall. If anybeast would know which creatures had been out and about recently, it would be Clewiston, and besides, it looked to Alex as if some of the hornets might still have been buzzing angrily around the orchard.

"Wot ho, Alex chappie?" the Long Patrol commander greeted his Mossflower Patrol counterpart. "You're lookin' downright anxious to be somewhere."

"Colonel, have you seen Latura anywhere?"

"That ratmaid seer? Can't say that I have, at least not since the hornet hullaballoo started. Isn't she inside with everybeast else?"

"No, she doesn't seem to be. She got separated from her family in the crush to get in from the swarm, and they can't find her anywhere in Great Hall."

"Hmm. Then maybe she's still in the orchard, or else she ran off to some other part of the grounds. The hornets seemed thickest over the south lawns. All I know is, there've been no rats this way during any of this multi-pronged to-do ... unless you count those brushtailed Northland variety who just beat it out of here."

Alexander's ears pricked. "The Gawtrybe? What about them?"

"Four of 'em came runnin' toward us like their tails were on fire, right when everyballybeast else was tryin' to get inside. Grabbed up their weapons an' skedaddled right out of the Abbey. An' I wasn't shedding any tears of farewell."

"Only four? Was Matowick among them? Where were the other two? Where were they going?"

"Whoa, whoa, one blinkin' question at a time, wot? No, their captain seemed to be missing, an' I don't know where the other two truants got off to, but I can tell you they took all their weapons with 'em, for all six of their party. An' they weren't exactly disposed to share where they were off to in such a hurry. I just made sure to get the gate barred behind 'em. Now that they're armed again, don't want that rabble gettin' back inside, do we?"

Alex glanced up at the ramparts with concern, noting their abandonment. "Who's on walltop lookout? Are all the gates being guarded?"

Clewiston waved a casual paw of dismissive assurance. "_We_ were up topside until leverets started plummeting an' gatehouses started smoking, so this portal's been well-watched, you can rest assured. Nobeast's been in or out except those red-furred bow-twangers, mark my bally words. As for the other egresses, north ramparts an' wallgate's far 'nuff removed from the ruckus that they should still be fully staffed. East gate too. An' I sent two of your own squad over to safeguard the south gate, tho' I doubt anybeast came in or out that way since the worst of the swarm lay over that area. Figured we'd get th' gates all squared away first, then worry 'bout gettin' sets of peepers back up above."

Alex seemed to accept the Colonel's assessment, but then his eyes widened in alarm. "Hang on. I heard that all the otters guarding the east gate came over to help rescue Faylona from the pond, and then jumped into the water themselves to escape the hornets. And all the rats and squirrels who were up on the east walltop also came down to see if they could aid Faylona too, and they were all chased indoors by the swarm."

Clewiston's eyes widened to match Alexander's. "By my scuddin' scut, that'd leave our east flanks open an' exposed, right where all those besiegin' villains are at their thickest!"

Alex worked his jaw. "Except I don't think an invasion of Redwall is what they've got in mind ... " He turned and raced back the way he'd come, making a mad dash for the east grounds.

Clewiston looked to Melanie, still minding the fidgety Lysander, and the shrews of the west watch. "Keep an eye on that gate!" he ordered, turning to follow Alex.

"Clewy, be careful!" his wife called out after him.

"Don't you worry, m' gel - if we find any trouble we can't handle, you'll see us comin' back this way twice as fast as we left!"

Moments later Clewiston had fallen into speedy step alongside the Forest Patrol chief, his natural hare speed allowing him to catch up to the squirrel with ease. "If you're headin' into trouble, chap, better to have a fighter at your back, wot?"

Alex smiled. "Much appreciated, Colonel!"

The two of them gave the orchard as wide a berth as they could, sticking close to the main Abbey on their way to check out the east gate. At that remove, thus did even Clewiston's sharp ears miss Palter's weak, hysterical cries for help outside the south wall at that moment, and so the would-be Redwall rescuers pressed on toward the east grounds even as Palter and Latura were forced out onto the road and thence into the Western Plains.

Alexander's racing heart fell as they drew within clear sight of the east gate. "It's open!"

"An' unguarded too," Clewiston added, paw on the hilt of the sword he'd adopted for this day's watch rotation. "Just as you jolly well feared, rotter's luck. Be on your toes, chappie - might be far worse'n hornets about!"

Alex himself felt suddenly naked, lacking his customary bow and quiver, which he seldom wore around the Abbey when not on duty. With only his small belt knife to comfort him, he made to step out through the gate into Mossflower. "Let's see what there is to see out there ... if anything."

And so Alex passed through the gate, and he was very careful.

And Clewiston followed behind him, and he was also very careful.

And yet, in spite of their shared alert caution, neither thought to look immediately to their right, where the former Abbess pressed herself flat against the outside of the wall, quite literally out of sight and out of mind of the two defenders.

Alex and the Colonel let their roving gazes drop from the forest before them to the grass and earth at their footpaws, and each instantly reached the same conclusion.

"Somebeast's been out this way, an' recent, too," the hare assessed. "More'n one, by the look of it."

"Pawprints aren't clear enough to tell the species," added Alex. "Could be squirrels, or rats ... or both."

"So, do we give - "

The heavy slam of the gate behind them made both creatures jump, and turn to look. But all that met their gaze was the closed entryway, with nobeast else in sight.

The unmistakable scrape of the lockbolt, however, left little doubt as to their clandestine stalker's intent.

Already guessing how futile it would be, Clewiston went to the door and gave it a try, but it would not budge. "Ho, that's just fine an' dandy, wot? Now who'd go an' do something like that?"

"Somebeast pretty sneaky," Alex said, "since as far as I could tell, we were alone when we went through, and we were alone once we came out here."

"Hmm. Chalk it up to th' bally ghosts then ... "

"I'm about ready to do just that. So, do we follow the tracks to see where they lead, or try to get back inside?"

The Colonel mulled this over. "Much as my adventuresome spirit says to strike out into the bold unknown, we're Redwall defenders first an' foremost. Our Abbey's in a bit of a crisis just at th' moment, so I'd say our place is here."

Alex stared at the faint tracks in frustration. "Somebeast could be in serious trouble ... could need our help badly ... "

"Then we'll set out once we've all caught our breath and have had a chance to round up a serious rescue party ... properly armed, which we aren't now. My first weapon's spear, not this show blade I'm wearin' now, an' you've naught but your knife. No, let's go back inside, an' then we'll sort things out as need be."

Alexander sighed in defeat. "Well, we're not getting in _that_ way. Do we go north, or south?"

"Let's try north, since our sentries there likely never abandoned their posts in the first place. An' if it turns out they have, then we'll just hafta tramp all th' way 'round to the main gate. Leastways we know there's somebeast there who'll let us in, even if it's my own bloomin' wife!"

00000000000

Warbeak Loft, in the attic spaces high above the Abbey grounds, escaped the worst of the swarm unscathed. Indeed, when the Sparra there realized what was going on, a few of the more daring and impetuous youngbirds swooped down into the thick of it to see how many of the crunchy, succulent stinging insects they could snatch from midair, as much for the sport of it as to feed their bellies. And while a few suffered solitary stings for their playful antics - including at least one stung tongue, which only added daring spice to the tasty tidbit from that bird's point of view - the quantity of gobbled hornets far surpassed the number of afflicted sparrows. In fact, this aerial predation proved a major factor in convincing the hornets to settle down and cease their swarming.

With this diversion ebbing, the uninjured birds turned their sights to new endeavors while their stinger-pieced brethren retreated to Warbeak Loft to nurse their battle wounds. Thus did Rafter become the first Redwaller to spot Matowick's party crossing the ditch and striking out into the Western Plains at a half-trot. Realizing that these were the same half-dozen Gawtrybe who'd been staying at the Abbey in recent days, and that they bore with them two rat prisoners - one adorned in an instantly-recognizable peach dress - the entire scenario struck even the naturally detached Rafter as cause for alarm, and so out he flew to investigate.

Unsurprisingly, they refused to respond to his chittered hails or slow their pace, but Rafter's alarm turned to stunned shock when drawn blades greeted him upon alighting on the plains before them, the cold and purposeful steel matching the squirrels' grim, determined faces.

The female captive beamed at the sparrow with an innocent smile totally at odds with her obvious plight. "Birdy!"

"LattyRatty! Heyhey, youtook LattyRatty!"

"Out of our way, bird!" Nixalis snapped as the group made to go around the inquisitive sparrow. "Don't seek to harass or waylay us, or we will use our arms!"

Taken aback by the unexpected hostility, Rafter hopped clear of them twice as far as necessary. "Whytake LattyRatty?"

"She's a prisoner of Lord Urthblood's, by special decree," Matowick shot back. "Make no move against us, or it will end badly for you!"

The squirrels pressed past Rafter, pushing on without further acknowledgment that the Sparra was even there - although a couple did keep their swords out, as a clear message they were not to be trifled with. Latura looked back over her shoulder in sad farewell; she might have waved, had her paws not been bound behind her. "Bye bye birdy!"

Rafter stood looking after them for several brainwracking moments, unsure what to do. Then, as a burst of decisiveness surged within him, he flapped into the air and flew back to Redwall as fast as he could.

Earlier that morning, most of the Sparra who hadn't been out foraging in the woods had taken up perches at various spots upon and along the Abbey roof, watching the day's events with rapt spectators' interest. There was nothing they could do about the leveret who'd seemingly almost drowned in the pond, but the young hare appeared to have emerged from that scare none the worse, tended now by Maura on the north grounds. Nor could they involve themselves with the fire in the gatehouse, although that too seemed to have abated with no casualties and little damage to the Abbey itself. They'd not even noticed little Lysander falling from the west walltop, it had happened so quickly, and as for the altercation near the orchard at the start of all this, birdfolk tended to steer clear of such sizable fisticuffs, content to let the ground beasts work out such difference among themselves. The one act by which the Sparra could make any beneficial impact - hunting the hornets and quelling the swarm - had already been performed, so now they were mostly satisfied to just sit by and watch as the crisis settled down and resolved itself.

Rafter found Highwing perched upon the eaves overlooking the south lawns, which also commanded a clear view covering the orchard and pond all the way across to the west wallgate. The younger bird flapped down alongside his chieftain in an excited flurry of feathers. "Highwing, Highwing! Gawtrybebushtails took LattyRatty! LattyRatty all tiedup, ledacross WestPlains!"

As the Sparra leader ruffled in alarm at this, a round head stuck out from the opening in the roofspaces below, its equally round eyes blinking in the sun. Captain Saugus, having been up all night, had sought to sleep away the daylight hours as a guest in Warbeak Loft, but the commotions of this morning had only served to rouse him long before his preferred twilight awakening.

"What is that you say?" the owl captain inquired of Rafter. "The Gawtrybe staying here at Redwall have left, and are now fleeing across the Western Plains?"

"WhatIsaid, whatIsaid!"

"And this rat you say they have with them - is that the one believed to have prophetic powers?"

"Yesyesyes!"

Saugus digested this. "Then the Captain has succeeded in his mission. Do not follow, or there will be trouble." Spreading his wings, the owl launched himself from beneath the eaves and flapped out over the west wall to fly supporting cover for Matowick's squad on their way back to Salamandastron.

Highwing, hearing the owl's words and seeing the purposefulness of his commanding departure, wasted not a moment in fluttering away himself in search of whatever Abbey leaders he could find.

00000000000

"Hullo, Maura," Alex greeted the Badgermum as he and Clewiston were let in through the north wallgate by the shrews and hares stationed there. "Didn't expect to find you here."

"When those hornets struck, my instincts kicked in, so I grabbed Faylona and got her away from there as fast as I could. And those instincts proved correct in this case, because this little pretend otter here didn't suffer so much as a single sting. Wish I could claim to be as lucky; my tail's positively throbbing! But, such are the perils of being a responsible Badger Mother." Maura looked from the squirrel to Clewiston as she kept Faylona entertained with one waggling paw. "What were you two doing outside the wall? I thought you had west gate duty today, Colonel."

"Our Gawtrybe friends appear to have slipped out of the Abbey in the midst of all this confusion," Alex explained. "The Colonel let four of them out himself - with all of their weapons - and the other two aren't anywhere to be found either."

"I'm not exactly crushed," Maura wryly remarked. "Having them around wasn't exactly adding to our share of Redwall cheer."

"Normally I'd agree that we're best rid of them - except that Latura's missing too."

Maura nearly gasped at this. "You think they made off with her? How would they have pulled off such a thing?"

"We found tracks of multiple creatures outside the east wallgate, leadin' into the bally woods," Clewiston reported, his fellow hares piqued to full attention by this news. "That side of the Abbey got overlooked an' was left unguarded in all this rigamarole. My guess is they grabbed her an' are haulin' her to Foxguard even as we speak. We've gotta let the other Abbey leaders know, an' decide wot we're jolly well going to do about it."

Maura picked up Faylona and cradled the leveret in her arms as the shrews and hares saw to locking the wallgate again; the possibility of such subterfuge had instantly brought Long Patrol and Guosim both to heightened alertness. "I'll go with you," the badger said. "We can use the rear entrance by the kitchen stores, and get to Great Hall and Cavern Hole that way, without having to face those dreadful hornets again."

"They seemed to have mostly settled down when I went out that way," Alex informed them. "But you're right; this way will get us in faster, and time's of the essence now."

The three ranking Abbeybeasts, with Maura's added leveret passenger, had only made it halfway across to the main building when Highwing descended upon them in his usual well-practiced, lopsided, twirling flutter, alighting on the lawns before them. "Maura, Alex, Colonel! The Gawtrybe have taken Latura!"

"You've spotted 'em?" Clewiston asked, eager for any tactical confirmation. "Where are they now? Which way're they headed?"

"According to Rafter, they're already out into the Plains, making due west at double speed."

"The Plains?" Alex echoed in bewilderment. "That doesn't make any sense!"

The Colonel begged to differ. "Sure it does. Those brushtailed blighters aren't taking her to Foxguard at all. They're abscondin' with her straight back to Salamandastron! That must've been their entire soddenfurred reasons for comin' here in the first place!"

Highwing nodded. "Captain Saugus confirmed as much. He was there when Rafter reported to me, and when Saugus heard this news, he said something about the captain's mission having succeeded." The Sparra leader looked between the three faces. "He also warned us not to follow, or there would be trouble."

"There's trouble already," Maura said with a scowl, "and they're the ones who caused it!"

"Yah," Clewiston added, "an' I'm not exactly in the bally habit of followin' my enemies' blinkin' orders!"

Alex stared at the Colonel. "You consider Matowick's group to be enemies?"

"Tricking their way into our home under false pretenses, an' abductin' a creature under our Abbot's protection - what would _you_ call 'em?"

Alexander needed only a moment to dwell on this question. "Enemies. I'd call them enemies. And right now they're enemies who are getting farther away with each word we waste here."

"I'm with you, Alex chappie. But their choice of direction should help us out in the long run - and a long hare's run is wot this'll boil down to. Wide, flat, open plains with no trees to disappear into, an' none of their fellow hooligans to ambush us from. That'll make 'em a lot easier to track, an' easier to catch up to. Biggest bloomin' break they could've given us - or that we could've asked for."

"There may not be Gawtrybe in the trees to contend with, but Captain Choock's shrews have been seen abroad in the Western Plains since their deployment, and then there's Saugus to consider as well. Those squirrels will have aerial cover. They'll see us coming from a long way away."

Clewiston glanced at Highwing with a calculating grin. "Ol' Bloodface isn't the only one around here with birds, is he?"

Alex returned the grin. "Yes, there is that, isn't there? You two go on in and let the others know what's happened. I'm not letting those rat thieves widen their lead over us any more than they already have. I'm going after them; the rest of the rescue party can catch up later!" He started off toward the west grounds at a determined jog.

"Alex!" Maura called after him. "We need to discuss this first! What if Geoff decides not to send a rescue party?"

"Then I'll be on my own, won't I?" the Forest Patrol leader shouted back without breaking his stride.

"Not on your jolly own, chappie," Clewiston muttered. "Marm, get inside an' let the Abbot an' ev'ryballybeast else know wot's happened. Traveller especially - he'll know wot t' do, least as far as the Patrols go. Me 'n' Alex'll lead the charge - but we'll be countin' on backup, sooner or later."

"You'll have it from us, Colonel," Highwing pledged. "The Abbot must decide how his ground beasts will respond to this, but we Sparra decide for ourselves, and my decision is that we fly with you!"

"Smashing show, my feathered general! Righto, then, I'm off. See you on the Plains!" Clewiston shot off after Alex, whose red tail was already disappearing around the corner of the equally red sandstone building.

Maura heaved a sigh and gazed down at Faylona in her arms as she strode toward the Abbey door. "Looks like you and I are the general alarm, aren't we?"

Around on the northwest grounds, Alex was surprised to see Clewiston falling into step alongside him. "Colonel! I thought I told you and Maura to go inside and alert everybeast else?"

The hare feigned mock insult. "My dear bushtail, you may be th' high mucky-muck 'mongst your fellow treewhompers, but I'll handle Long Patrol matters 'round here, if you don't mind. An' if you think I'm lettin' you head out there all alone, then you don't know this longears very well, wot?"

Alex smiled in spite of himself, gladdened anew to have such an experienced soldierbeast at his side. "I can see there's no talking you out of this, so thanks!"

"Hrmph. Let's just say you owe me an extra muffin at next brekkers, old bean."

They came upon the gatehouse cottage at their shared half-trot, Melanie and the shrews eyeing them expectantly. "What news?" the harewife inquired, knowing from their gait that all was not well.

"Those fiends have made off with Lattie," her husband replied. "Slipped out with her through the east gate when nobeast was watchin', then circled back around to rejoin the four we let out this way. Our Sparra confirm they're makin' their way 'cross the Western Plains, so we're goin' after 'em."

"You and wot army?" Melanie demanded of him.

"That's bein' determined even as we speak. Maura's in tellin' the Abbot an' the others, an' they'll hammer out who gets to be in the rescue party. We've also got our feathered friends flyin' with us, so we'll not be alone until the cavalry arrives." Seeing the aggrieved reservations in his spouse's face, he quickly added, "Don't you worry one gray hare's hair any grayer, Mel m'gel. Alex 'n' I'll just be shadowing these ruffians until we're bolstered by enuff fighters to even things out. Wouldn't dream of engagin' them in any lopsided scrape, don'tcha know."

"I should hope not," she chastised. "I've already buried one husband, an' Lys deserves to have his father around for a good many more seasons." Regarding Alex and Clewiston, she added, "You're not even properly armed!"

"We'll change that in a jiff." Motioning toward the vast pile of confiscated rat armaments nearby, he said to Alex, "Go grab a bow and quiver for yourself, chappie, an' while you're at it, a nice solid spear for this old hare will fit the bill nicely. I'm sure those skintails won't mind us borrowin' them, since it's their flippin' prophet we're goin' after!"

Alex did as bidden, taking a few extra moments to choose wisely. Returning to the gatehouse, he found Clewiston and Melanie wrapping up a whispered conversation between the two of them. Passing the spear to the Colonel, he asked, "Anything I should know about?"

"Just family matters. Naught to worry your tufted-eared head about. Hmm, rather fine piece o' work, this spear. Who'da guessed those frighters would boast weapons of this quality? Prob'ly pilfered it from somebeast else. Just shows how wise it was t' disarm 'em before grantin' 'em sanctuary inside our walls."

"This bow also looks sure and sturdy," Alex weighed in. "And I checked the arrows too. They mostly seem straight and true. Not sure I'd care to try my luck with them against Gawtrybe shafts, though."

"Remember, we're just trackin' an' trailin', Alex. No unilateral action on our part until th' whompin' reinforcements arrive."

"And that's a promise I'll hold you to," Melanie told Clewiston with undisguised concern as little Lysander, looking on with wide eyes, clutched tightly at his mother's paw. "Come back to me safe, Clewy."

"That's the bally plan, Mel. Well, Alex, time's wastin', no time like th' present, an' all that rot. Shall we?"

As if to emphasize the Colonel's point, Rafter swooped low over the creatures gathered by the gatehouse. "Hurryup. hurryup! Badbeasts getfar, LattyRatty getfar!"

"Bird's got the sense of a mole," Clewiston muttered. "Almost as hard to understand, too. Okay, open that gate, 'cos we're goin' through!"

While Melanie stood back, Lysander firmly in paw and the worried look never leaving her face, the watch shrews heaved to and got the large doors open, allowing Alex and the Colonel to hasten out into the road. As the gate slammed shut behind them, Melanie turned and started toward the main Abbey, her son in tow. "Come along, Lys. We have to go find Uncle Traveller, an' no dawdlin'!"

Out in the path, Alex made straight for the drainage ditch immediately opposite the gates, but Clewiston held him back, nodding to his left instead. "No call for gettin' down in that trench an' havin' to claw our way back up the other side, when there's a better way!"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I'll show you." Leading the way south a few dozen paces, Clewiston halted at the edge of the ditch across from the withdrawn planks. Ears drooping and whiskers atwitch in agitation, he grumbled, "Well, that's a spankin' fine how d' you do, isn't it? Those planks made a fine little footpawbridge only just this morn. Just wot you'd jolly well expect from such dashed miscreants, going an' taking our bridge away! Well, we'll just hafta lay it out again, won't we? Stand back, chappie - give this old gray hare some running room!"

Alex looked on skeptically. "You mean to jump the ditch?"

"Course, chum. Not that wide here, an' once I'm across, I can throw a plank or two back your way for you to cross too - an' those who'll be followin' after us."

"Looks wide enough to me. I know a thing or two about jumping, and I don't think I could clear it."

"The watch a master of the spring-legged arts show you how it's done, wot! An entire score of us took this crack when we were chasin' Browder here after that indignity at Salamandastron, without so much as a stumble between us!"

"Maybe so, but that was two summers and several belt notches ago, for you, Colonel."

"Hrmph!" Kicking and stretching to prepare himself, Clewiston backed up for a running start and sprinted toward the ditch, his borrowed spear leveled out before him blunt end first. Picking his moment, he dipped his spear into a firm, hard patch at the ditch's edge and, with a mighty push from both legs, levered himself airborne upon the long shaft like a vaulting pole. His momentum carried him clear across the miniature chasm with a paw's breadth to spare. Collecting himself from a somewhat awkward and ungainly landing, he stood and leaned on his weapon. "And _that's_ how you leap a trench, chappie!"

Rafter winged by overhead, chittering. "Funnybunnydog flylike Sparra, butonly for shorttime, teeheeheeheehee!"

"Color me impressed, Colonel," Alex admitted. "Doubt I could have done that. But now that you're over there, let's get on with what you made that jump for in the first place, hm?"

Stirring himself, Clewiston grabbed up one of the planks and extended it across the ditch. Alex didn't even wait for him to lay a second one, bouncing across it with his squirrel's agility to join the Colonel. "Right, let's get going, and close some of that distance!"

With a tiny squadron of Sparra escorts circling and ranging above them, Alex and Clewiston set a brisk pace into the Western Plains, following the trail of six squirrels and two rats that was impossible to miss.

The chase had begun.


	5. Chapter 77

**CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN**

"Well, this has been a day, hasn't it?" Jiriel remarked to her family down in Cavern Hole, where they'd retreated to make room for the stung creatures and their healers to work up in Great Hall. "If I'd begun to think things were uneventful around here before, I sure don't now!"

Cyril, seated alongside her, shook his head. "With all that's been going on with the Gawtrybe and the rats and the reopening of the quarry to build Freetown, I wouldn't have thought this season could get any more eventful than it already was, but now, between what happened yesterday to Lady Mina and this uproar today, I don't know what to make of it all. I think I can smell some of the smoke from the gatehouse all the way down here!"

"At least none of the hornets got in," Neblett said. "That would have been a disaster an' a half, with nowhere t' hide!"

"I'm just glad none of our sons or daughters were involved in that fight by the orchard," added Deakyne. "For a while I was worried, but I shouldn't have doubted. We raised them with more sense than to be part of anything like that. I wonder what could have gotten into those other youngsters, to start a brawl with those rats?"

"I heard Vanessa started the whole thing," said Cyril. "It's hard to believe, but easier I suppose than the notion of all these things happening at once by pure coincidence."

Engaged as they all were with their speculations and ruminations over the day's happenings, they barely noticed Smallert descending the stairs down to Cavern Hole - or the creature sticking close by him - until the weasel and his companion were nearly upon them. Realizing just who it was approaching their table, Cyril did a double-take, as did most of his tablemates, although for a different reason.

"Nessa! There you are! Everybeast's looking for you - you are in _SO_ much trouble! But, um ... where are your clothes?"

"Must have lost them somewhere along the way," she replied in a nonchalant, unabashed manner. "It's been such a morning, and I can't be expected to keep track of everything, now can I? Lucky for me, I found this gallant weasel fellow here who was able to shield me from all those prying eyes upstairs, and spare me embarrassment before most of the Abbey!"

"I 'spect t'weren't embarrassment you were worried about, Nessa," Smallert gently chided, "an' it were mostly the Abbey leaders' eyes you were hidin' from. But you asked me t' help bring you t' Cyril, so I did."

She patted him on the arm. "And a fine weasel you are for helping me out so. But I simply can't go about without a stitch on, as I'm sure you'll all agree. Cyril, would you please be so kind as to accompany me upstairs for a new outfit? Your lady friend here can come with us if she'd like."

Jiriel giggled and whispered to Cyril, "Does she do this often?"

"It's been known to happen," he answered in a half-groan; perhaps distracted by Vanessa's state of total undress, he failed to pick up on something different in her demeanor, the mature assurance of her voice. "By all rights I ought to take you straightaway to Maura and the Abbot. What you did today was just too much!"

"Oh, they'll have their paws too full for awhile to worry about little old me. And besides ... " She spread her arms. "I can't be expected to go before them like_ this_, can I?"

"Well, no, I guess not ... "

"Then come along, you two, and let's get me decent again!" Treating the whole thing in the frivolous manner everybeast had come to expect from her in recent seasons, Vanessa led the disconcerted Cyril and the smirking Jiriel up out of Cavern Hole into Great Hall and toward the stairs ascending to the dormitory levels. Mindful to position herself between her two escorts as much as she could so as to escape the attention of any Abbey leaders who happened to be looking their way, Vanessa had nearly gained the staircase when Maura came thundering in upon the scene through the back way from the kitchens, Faylona still cradled in her embrace. The Badgermum halted in surprise upon spotting the former Abbess. "Nessa! There you are! Where are your clothes?"

"Gee, that seems to be all anybeast can say to me today! Sorry, Mother Maura, but I can't talk now! See you in a bit!" Waving off the larger beast, Vanessa scurried up the steps, leaving Cyril and Jiriel little choice but to follow. Maura, her paws still full of leveret, stood staring after the unlikely trio for a few heartbeats, then turned and continued on her way. She had more pressing matters to deal with now.

"Well," Cyril muttered as he and Jiriel climbed after Vanessa, "Arlyn and Metellus wanted me to keep an eye on her this season, so I guess I still am!"

To his surprise, Vanessa went right to Abbot Geoff's study and chambers. "Hey, what are you doing?" Cyril challenged as she opened the door to let herself in. "That's Abbot Geoff's private quarters! You can't go in there!"

"They were mine before they were his," she said with carefree defiance, and then she was inside. Cyril chased in after her, too flustered to catch her reference to her former Abbesshood - something no Redwaller had heard from her lips since her wounding at Foxguard.

Cyril's mortification only deepened when he realized Vanessa was charging right through the study into Geoff's bedchamber. "Nessa, no! Stay out of there! Oooh!"

Jiriel looked around as they paused in the outer chamber, Cyril hesitant to venture into his Abbot's innermost sanctum himself. "We're not supposed to be here, are we?"

"Well, no - at least not when the Abbot's not here. Not that there are any rules against it, but ... well, how would _you_ like somebeast nosing around in your private things when you weren't around?"

"You seem to forget where I come from. Our mouse and vole clans are all packed in pretty tightly together in our shared lodge. The new building's a bit roomier than the old one Snoga burned down, but not by that much. There's precious little privacy to be found there. That's why I'm not exactly shocked to see your former Abbess traipsing around in her ungarbed state; on bath nights at the lodge, or on sunny afternoon swims in the river, we pretty much all walk around like that, until our fur's dry enough to put our clothes back on. But what passes as acceptable in a woodland lodge is very different from what we think of as being proper Abbey etiquette here - or so I would have assumed, before today!"

"It's not uncommon to see our otters and 'hogs go about in just their fur and spikes, especially in high summer. We mice are usually more, um, reserved. Nessa's an exception - in more ways than one. Come on, let's see what she's up to in there!"

Belatedly following Vanessa into the bedchamber, they found her kneeling before the imposing wardrobe chest and bureau there, one of its large lower drawers pulled open. Cyril stood aghast anew at the sight of her rummaging through the folded garments within. "Nessa, don't go through Geoff's clothes like that! It's so not right!"

"Oh, but these aren't his. I'm looking for one item in particular - and here it is! I knew he wouldn't have the heart to throw it out!" Standing, Vanessa held out before her a habit of green, the color traditionally reserved for novices of the Redwall order but which she had favored as both Infirmary keeper and later as Abbess. Pulling it on, she smoothed it down with her paws to work out the gentle folds, then fished its companion habit cord out of the bottom of the drawer and tied it around her waist. Then she looked at Cyril, a serene and assured look not seen from her eyes in three seasons, and the bellringer mouse's jaw dropped.

"A ... Abbess?"

"Yes, Cyril. Listen, I need you and Cyrus to hurry out to the belltower and toll the summons for a council of Abbey leaders down in Cavern Hole. Can you do that for me please?"

His eyes remained wide and his jaw slack. Beside him, Jiriel stood almost equally thunderstruck, the change in Vanessa that she'd witnessed before her very eyes nearly impossible to credit. The mere act of donning the green habit had seemingly transformed the afflicted Abbess into an entirely different creature - not a beast afflicted at all, but one upon whom the mantle of authority rested with natural ease.

"Abbess - is that you?"

"Who else would I be, Cyril? I know I've been away for too long, but there's no time for explanations now. I need you to do as I've asked."

The distant sound of many raised voices reached their ears then, coming through the open doors from the corridor. "What's that?" Jiriel wondered.

"That, I suspect, would be the Abbey leaders and our rat guests learning that Captain Matowick has stolen off with Latura, and bears her away to Salamandastron."

Jiriel's eyes went as wide as Cyril's; even though she'd only dwelt at Redwall for a short time, the name of the prophetic ratmaid was as well known to her as to most Abbeybeasts. It wasn't every day - or every season, or even every lifetime - that one heard of any creature achieving what Latura had accomplished.

"And I imagine," Vanessa went on, "they intend to do something about it. That is why we must convene this council at once. Please hurry, Cyril, and stop to speak with nobeast but Cyrus - we haven't a moment to lose."

"Yes, Abbess! Let me go find him, and get that toll sounded right away! Um ... yeah, I'll do that now. Come on, Jiriel!"

The young mousemaid took several moments longer to stir herself, studying Vanessa with a puzzled scrutiny even as the now-restored Abbess returned the stare with a placid, beatific gaze of her own. Then Jiriel turned and followed after Cyril, catching up with him in the corridor and falling into step alongside him.

"Cyril, are you sure that's the Abbess?"

"Huh? Of course she is! Who else could she be?"

00000000000

Well out into the Western Plains, Saugus dropped out of the sky to alight on the level ground ahead of Matowick's fleeing group. "Captain, the Redwallers are pursuing."

The Gawtrybe commander, gritting his teeth, slowed but did not entirely stop, forcing the owl to hop-skip alongside him as they drew abreast. "Well, we should have expected as much. How many?"

"One hare, one squirrel."

Nixalis looked to his captain in surprise. "Only two beasts? That's not a rescue party. Do you think they mean to negotiate instead?"

"They'll quickly find there's nothing to negotiate," said Matowick, "and that they'll be heading back to the Abbey empty-pawed. And the hare will have to slacken his pace to match the squirrel - that'll slow them down by a good bit. They'll not overtake us anytime soon."

"I should also mention Sparra escort them," Saugus added. "At least a score, perhaps twice that."

"Hmm. That changes things. Maybe they're counting on their birds to do the battling, and the two land beasts are just to escort our captives back to Redwall if they prevail. This could be more of a problem, since birds can be aggressive, and won't be easily intimidated or put off. We may have to use lethal force if they press an attack."

"I did warn them not to follow," Saugus put in.

"Yes - and they listened so well. We'd best double our pace again; the longer we can put off such confrontation, the easier I'll breathe."

"I've alerted the two nearest shrew teams that you may need their support," the owl went on. "They're mobilizing now to cover your rearguard. In the meantime, I am returning to Salamandastron to inform Lord Urthblood of the situation."

"If he doesn't know already," Brisson mumbled.

"I will send out Klystra or Altidor to spell me until nightfall; they are better suited to daylight operations, and I need to fully rest in order to rejoin you after dusk. Until then, the gulls assigned to Mossflower will keep an eye on things here, and rally to you if they see you need them."

"That will have to do, Captain," Matowick said to Saugus. "Get yourself a good rest, and I will see you this evening - and Altidor or Klystra well before then."

Bird and beasts took their leave of each other, Saugus flapping his way up into the clear spring sky and west toward the coastlands while the squirrels and their captives kept to their own brisk pace. But Palter, having overheard the entire exchange, felt hope stir in his heart for the first time since leaving the Abbey. "Didjer hear that, Lattie? They're comin' after us! The Redwallers're comin' t' rescue us!"

"Yay! Um, who're you again?"

Brisson sniggered at the two rats. "Think whatever you want, but I can tell you now, there won't be any rescue for you - by Redwallers, or by anybeast else!"

00000000000

The sound of the Methuselah and Matthias bells cut through the heated conversation and raised voices holding sway throughout Great Hall, and gave Geoff a much-welcomed excuse to be elsewhere.

"Well, that was fast," the Abbot said, cocking his ear to take in the mellow, sonorous tones from outside. "Cyril and Cyrus must have anticipated our need for a council - unless somebeast else told them to sound the toll. Was that you, Maura?"

The big badger - at last freed from her burden of Faylona, whom she'd delivered into the care of the leveret's parents Baxley and Givadon elsewhere in Great Hall - shook her head. "I came straight in here as soon as I parted ways with Alex and the Colonel. I suppose one of them might have run into Cyril or Cyrus outdoors and told them what was going on ... although that wouldn't explain why I saw Cyril going upstairs with Vanessa just now ... "

"Oh, has Vanessa shown up again?" Geoff asked.

"In a manner of speaking - and she wasn't hiding anything. Seems she's forgotten where she put her clothes."

"Not the first time _that's_ happened," Geoff said with a resigned sigh. "We'll deal with that later ... if Vanessa's even anywhere to be found by then. We can't worry about that now."

"I actually thought I did see Cyril and Cyrus run out past us a few moments ago," offered Winokur. "Whatever Cyril was doing upstairs must not have taken too long. Probably just going to fetch his brother to help ring the bells."

"Who cares 'bout any o' this?" Harth broke in; the former horde general stood at the forefront of the irate, restive rats surrounding the Abbot. News of Latura's abduction had turned the mood among the rodents ugly, their hornet stings all but forgotten as they agitated for action. "You ain't gonna let those villains get away with this, are ya? You are goin' after her, right?"

"As Abbot of Redwall, I cannot let this incursion against us stand, or go unanswered. Alexander and Colonel Clewiston, two of our chief defenders, are already out there on the kidnappers' trail, supported by many of our Sparra. Our council now will be to determine the best way to aid them, and make this situation right again. On that, you have my word."

"An' while ye're all down there jabberin', our Lattie's gettin' farther 'n' farther away from rescue. One thing I've seen is how you Redwall lot love t' talk around problems - an' seems t' me the bigger 'n' more urgent a problem is, th' more words you find t' throw at it!"

"Watch it there, friend!" Log-a-Log warned, inserting himself between Harth and Geoff; as the rats had become more emboldened and cantankerous with the growing realization of what had been done to them, the Guosim and many of the Abbey hares and otters and squirrels moved forward to stand at Geoff's side, in case their anger should explode into violence. "That's Redwall's Abbot ye're addressin' there, so mind yerself!"

"We'll mind ourselves as long as he minds us, an' our grievances. We came t' Redwall seekin' sanctuary, an' now we're wond'rin' how safe any of us really are if the most important among us can be plucked up an' borne away by those who drove us here in th' first place. Just how did they manage to snatch Laitte an' make off with her anyway?"

"We're still trying to get that figured out," Geoff admitted. "There was a great deal going on all at once, as you may have noticed."

"Please, Abbot," Patreese implored from between Harth and Winokur, "we gotta get Lattie back. She ain't fit fer such hardships, an' she's never been away from her kin in her life. This could break her sumpthin' awful."

"I understand your concerns, my friend, and I empathize fully. But I will not allow the press of events to pressure me into hasty and ill-advised action, and neither will I dither and prevaricate. Everybeast here agrees we must act; this council will be to determine just how we proceed. And since we are also agreed that time is of the essence, let us go down and begin at once. Elmwood, since Alex isn't here, you'll have to fill in for him. I don't see Traveller or Gallatin about, but I'm sure the Long Patrol will want to be part of this too. If no hare of theirs responds to the toll by the time we're all seated, we'll just have to start without them."

"What about me?' Harth asked pointedly. "This affects us rats more'n anybeast, an' it's soundin' like you'll have enough room at the table for me."

"No offense, General, but I'm not sure I see any point to that. This session will concern mounting a rescue, and none of you can set foot outside the Abbey without running the risk of being taken captive yourselves - or worse."

"Who's t' say how many of those squirrels're out patrollin' these woods? Could only be a score, or less, an' they're stickin' mostly to th' trees. Mebbe if I lead all my fighters out in a massed charge toward the Plains after Lattie, it'd take 'em by surprise an' overwhelm 'em. Nice as this Abbey is an' as fairly as you folk here've treated us, a prison's still a prison, an' I'm gettin' sick of bein' bottled up in here against my will. An' I ain't the only rat hereabouts who thinks so."

"An' what if this whole thing's a ruse t' make you do jus' that?" Log-a-Log countered. "Don't matter if Urthblood's only got a pawful o' Gawtrybe stationed 'round Redwall - he's got his shrews too, an' them birds circlin' th' skies high above, an' losta reinforcements t' call on too. They wouldn't hafta engage you when you leave the Abbey; fact, that might be just what they want, so's they c'n cut off yer lines o' retreat t' keep you gettin' back in. An' the further out inta th' Plains ya gotta go t' recapture Lattie, th' more time they'll have to position a defensive line behind you."

"Log-a-Log could be right," said Arlyn, taking a brief break from treating the hornet sting victims to join the discussion. "We've all known for a long time that Urthblood must want all rats out of Redwall, and in the worst way, to conform to this Accord of his. I can certainly see this being some kind of ploy to get his paw on at least some of you."

"Then again," said Winokur, as distressed as anybeast over Latura's abduction, "our Sparra have kept their eyes on nearer Mossflower for us, and they've spotted nothing to indicate a large shifting of Gawtrybe to our immediate woods - nothing to suggest that Matowick's actions were any kind of diversion to lure more rats into some bigger trap. No, I think Latura was their sole objective all along. Just look at how quickly they fled once they had her!"

Geoff looked to Harth. "This is of course your decision to make. If you and your rats care to risk venturing beyond the safety of our walls to join the efforts to recover Latura, we certainly won't stop you, and we'll do what we can to safeguard you. But I wonder whether putting yourselves in harm's way like that might prove more hindrance than help. Right now we only have one rat to rescue; I'd hate for that one to become many, with perhaps some slain for their trouble as well."

Harth digested all the Abbeybeasts had said. "Okay, but I still want a seat at this council o' yers. It's only right I be there."

Geoff nodded. "As you wish. Come then, and let us convene without further delay."

He led the way down the steps to Cavern Hole, followed by Winokur, Maura, Elmwood, Log-a-Log and Harth. Arlyn would have to miss this council, needed as he and Metellus were to continue ministering to the sting victims.

The high-backed Abbot's chair still sat at the head of the table, faced away from stairs and untouched since the previous day's meeting with Matowick. The mere sight of Cavern Hole still so arranged stirred bitter feelings in some of the descending beasts, the Gawtybe captain's diplomatic overture in regard to searat envoys visiting Redwall now clearly exposed as nothing but a smoke screen, a distraction to occupy the Abbeybeasts' attention while Matowick went about his true purpose. And so it was that Geoff did not even realize until rounding his customary seat and reaching out to claim it for himself that the high-backed chair was already occupied.

The others, curious to see what had startled Geoff into a wordless, wide-eyed state, stepped past the large chair themselves for a look - and were all equally startled to see Abbess Vanessa, the picture of her old self in her green habit, gazing back at them with an air of unimpeachable authority.

"Thank you all for coming. Let us begin, shall we?"


	6. Chapter 78

**CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT**

Harth was the first to find his voice.

"I don't unnerstand - what's she doin' here? Ain't she s'posed to be daft?"

"That's hardly a courteous thing to say about Redwall's Abbess," Vanessa mildly scolded. "Now if you'd kindly excuse us, General, my fellow Abbeybeasts and I have much to discuss."

"I was promised a seat at this council," Harth objected.

"Not by me. And since I'm the one who called this gathering, I'm afraid my rules apply. Please wait upstairs, General. This is a Redwall matter, to be discussed and debated amongst Redwallers."

"_I_ called this meeting," Geoff indignantly interjected, at last overcoming his surprised silence. "And I told Harth he could be here, so - "

"Was it you who sent Cyril and Cyrus out to ring the bells?" Vanessa interrupted. "Because they were acting at my behest - as both Cyril and Jiriel will attest - while everybeast in Great Hall was working themselves into an uproar. Now, please be seated, so that we can get to the matter at paw."

Maura strode right up to the head chair, insulating herself in a cover of stern bluster against the inner hope she dared not rush to embrace. "Nessa, after all the trouble you've caused today, I don't know what kind of game you're playing now, but the situation is most dire, and we haven't time for any nonsense!"

"Maura, I assure you the situation is far more dire than you can possibly imagine. Look into my eyes, and tell me this is just a game I am playing."

The mouse's gaze did not flinch or waver under Maura's matronly authority, and then the badger knew to relent; the green habit Vanessa wore was no mere play costume. But it was Winokur who put into words what Maura and the others were thinking.

"Abbess? Is it really you?"

Vanessa nodded. "I have returned." Solemn, unassuming, not the tone of a beast victorious, but of one accepting the mantle of reluctant responsibility.

"Well, this is, um ... quite something," Geoff said in a half-stammer. "And quite a time for this development to be sprung upon us, welcome as it is. But more pressing and immediate matters confront us now, so if you'd kindly relinquish my chair ... "

"My chair." Vanessa motioned Geoff toward the seat alongside hers. "Recorder sits to the right of the Abbess, in accordance with recent Abbey tradition. Which pushes Wink down a peg as well, I'm afraid, but it can't be helped. The two of you will have to share that side of the table - and that post - until we can get the arrangement more formally finalized. For now, however, this is how it must be."

"Now hold on just a - " Geoff stuttered to an indignant standstill, caught between Vanessa's cool assertiveness and umbrage at having his own Abbot's authority so abruptly and unceremoniously usurped. Before he could collect himself to protest further, another voice sounded from the opposite end of Cavern Hole, where two hares emerged from the connecting passage to their underground dormitory tunnels.

"Wot ho," Traveller called out as he and Melanie strolled into the meeting chamber, "have we started yet, or is there some holdup here?" Then, spying Vanessa in her green habit occupying the contested head chair, he added, "Do I see wot I jolly well think I see, or are my peepers playing wishful thinking on me?"

"Thank you for joining us, Field Marshal," Vanessa greeted him. "We were just getting underway, although there seems to be some confusion over the seating arrangement, which I'm sure will be worked out presently."

Maura, who'd yet to retreat from alongside Vanessa, asked forthrightly, "Nessa, are you sure you're up to this? After all you've been through?"

"I have never been more up for anything in my life, Maura."

"Very well. But you could have been a bit more tactful where Geoff is concerned. He has been our Abbot for two seasons now, after all."

"This is not a time for tact, I'm afraid, or for worrying about bruised egos. What I have to say here is far too vital."

"In that case ... " The Badgermum crossed around to her own oversized chair. "Let's be seated, everybeast. I'm sure our Abbess has much she wants to cover."

Geoff seemed about to argue, but the steady twin gazes of Vanessa and Maura urged him to silence, and he took his lesser seat between Vanessa and Winokur with a defeated sigh. Harth, meanwhile, remained immovably obstinate. "Well, am I welcome here or not?"

"Everybeast is welcome here at Redwall," Vanessa replied, "with one or two exceptions. But this particular matter concerns the Abbey leaders, and no others, and I would strongly encourage you to wait outside, General."

"So ye're not barrin' me outright?"

"No, General, I am not forbidding you from a seat at these proceedings, if you insist upon it. But I can tell you now, you'll not like hearing what I have to say."

Harth helped himself to a chair. "I'll be th' judge o' that. Heard a lot in my life I've not cared for, but that's never stopped me from hearin' it."

"As you wish." Waiting a few moments for every tail to find its place and get settled in, Vanessa said, "I understand how the events of today must be very upsetting to all of you, and that you feel our hospitality has been violated, our home infiltrated, and a member of our community stolen from our very midst. I am forced to impress upon you that, on the last count at least, nothing of the sort has happened."

The others couldn't believe what they were hearing. Beneath his breath, Log-a-Log muttered, "Aw, bogwater! She's still cracked in th' head after all."

"I assure you, my good shrew, that my head is in perfect working order - including my ears."

Log-a-Log shrank down in his seat slightly at this mildly barbed admonishment.

"But, Latura was stolen right away from us!" Winokur protested. "Right out of the Abbey where she'd been promised sanctuary!"

"Actually, she wasn't," Vanessa corrected the otter Recorder. "Latura was well outside our walls when the Gawtrybe took her, having left the Abbey of her own free will. In that sense, the sanctity of Redwall was never violated."

Harth's voice rose above the other incredulous mutterings at this declaration. "Prepos'trous! Why would even addle-brained Lattie leave th' safety of Redwall? An' how do you happen t' know any of this anyway?"

"Because I was there."

"But were you in yer right mind?" Harth pressed. "Quite some miracle recov'ry you've undergone, consid'rin' that only just this morn you were hatchin' a hundred ways o' mischief 'gainst us. What kind o' Abbess does that? At just what point didja stop bein' addled in th' head an' become Abbess again?"

"Mind yourself, General," Maura cautioned. "She's our Abbess _now_, so please address her with the respect she's due."

Harth showed his fangs. "Like I was tellin' yer Abbot upstairs - yer _real_ Abbot - I'll show respect when respect's given back t' me an' my own. An' right now this so-called Abbess is insultin' all our intelligence, from what I'm hearin'."

Geoff found himself in the awkward position of defending the mouse who'd just forced him out of the Abbot's chair. "You never knew Vanessa before her injury. A wiser and more respect-worthy beast you would not find anywhere. And if she has now returned to us - in whatever fashion and through whatever quirk of fate - and she has something urgent to share with us - as she has indicated - then it would serve us well to heed her words. Whether we agree with them, or ultimately decide to follow her counsel, well, that can always be debated and decided after we've heard her out. That's what we're here for, isn't it?"

He turned to Vanessa. "That said, I must take issue with your dismissive attitude toward Matowick's actions. Most certainly he and his team came to us under false pretenses, abused our hospitality with the most base of secret motives, and outright lied to our faces at yesterday's council. Do you concede at least that much?"

"I do not deny any of it," Vanessa responded. "But the offender is now removed from our home with no apparent intent to return, and we know better than to admit him if he should ever darken our doorstep again."

Her tone of finality surprised every listener. "And you're ... content to leave it at that?" Geoff prompted.

"Matowick's team is no longer any direct concern of Redwall's. You might sooner ask such questions about his High Lady, who unlike him still dwells among us."

"Lady Mina?" This abrupt shift from one Gawtrybe to another threw Geoff for a moment. "Are you saying she was complicit in all of this? Some of us had our suspicions, but without any proof, or a direct admission by Mina herself, we've been hesitant to cast any accusations her way. But, now that you've brought it up, Vanessa, perhaps you could shed some light on something we've all been wondering. You were there when she was injured by her own arrow yesterday. Do you happen to know whether she was in truth aiming to shoot somebeast, and if so, who?"

"Of course. She was aiming at Latura."

"But why?" Winokur asked from Geoff's side. "Why would Mina want Latura dead?"

"For the same reason Matowick now bears her to Salamandastron, at Urthblood's orders: They both know that Latura has it within her power to destroy that badger, utterly and totally."

This pronouncement drew another moment of stunned silence from the assemblage. While all knew Latura was special - the nearly two hundred rats now sheltering at Redwall stood as proof enough of that - none there would have dreamed of articulating such a statement as Vanessa had just uttered.

It was Log-a-Log who said, "What, that liddle misfit? But she's just ... well ... how can she compare to th' most powerful Badger Lord who's ever lived?"

"If you suppose Latura's only talent is being able to glimpse some of what is to come, you would be seriously underestimating her. Sometimes those who appear meek and unthreatening possess hidden reserves that not even the most powerful warlord would be able to tame or conquer."

"And, just how do you happen to know this about Latura yourself?" Geoff asked.

"It would not be entirely inaccurate to say that I know these things because Martin the Warrior knows them."

"So it's true," Winokur surmised. "Martin really does have some connection to these events ... "

"To put it mildly," Vanessa confirmed with a knowing smile.

"And you've been ... in communication with him yourself?" Geoff probed.

"One might put it that way. Until Latura came, I straddled the worlds, caught between this one and the next. But I was not wholly in either, and that left me as you've known me these past three seasons: stunted, childlike, wild and rambunctious, not fully in control of myself, unable to fully remember who I was. Latura's powers - the same with which she might challenge Urthblood - have brought me back, bridged the gap and sealed the breech, and made me whole again. Without her, I would not be sitting here now."

"All the more reason to rescue her," Wink urged. "If she has truly restored our beloved Abbess to her old self, then we owe her a debt we will be hard-pressed to ever repay. Bringing her back to the safety of Redwall will barely begin to cover it."

"An' yet here we sit, jabberin' 'round th' matter just as I feared, while Lattie gets farther afield with each step."

"Harth is right," Geoff agreed. "We must decide at once how we are to proceed with this, and best effect Latura's recovery."

"We must do no such thing."

All present turned wide eyes to the Abbess. "Vanessa," Geoff argued, "how can you say such a thing? You, of all creatures, who owes that ratmaid more than anybeast else at this table?"

She remained resolute. "Let me make one thing very clear. Martin the Warrior does not _want_ us to go after Latura. And if we try, he will do all in his power to frustrate our efforts."

"No!" Winokur burst out. "No, Abbess, you are mistaken! Martin would never do such a thing! It's against everything he stands for! Why would he?"

"Because he recognizes the double threat she poses to this Abbey. Latura did not heal me because she meant to, or even guessed she was capable of such a feat. And that is the way of it with her: She causes things to happen, without meaning to, without even being aware of it. Her power is such that nobeast can marshall and subjugate it - not even her, not even Martin himself. In my case, the result proved beneficial to others besides herself - but it is not always so. She can lash out in ways unpredictable and chaotic, and if she is brought back to Redwall, it will only be a matter of time before havoc is unleashed upon us."

"Even if what you say about Latura is true," said Geoff, "I must concur that the spirit of Martin would never intercede against an innocent creature who's in danger."

"No? Then think upon everything that happened within these walls this morning, all at once. Do you really suppose one impaired Abbess, with just five toddlers as her accomplices, could have created such mayhem? If so, then you give me, Chevelle, Faylona, Troyall, Lysander and Percival far too much credit."

"You mean ... " Geoff breathed.

Vanessa nodded. "The paw of Martin was evident in these events - as it will be again if we seek to interfere."

Harth sat flabbergasted as much as anybeast there, and far more outraged than most. "You ... ye're gonna give Lattie over to that murderin' badger an' his minions? All on th' say so of a ... a ghost?"

Vanessa eyed the rat coolly. "I am sure Martin would not appreciate being referred to in such terms."

"You think I care what some long-dead bag o' bones thinks?"

"I warned you you would not like what I had to say, General."

Harth looked to the others around the table. "An' this's alright with all o' you? Ye're content t' just sit there 'n' do nuthin', all 'cos th' name o' some ancient myth's been thrown about? An' I thought vermin were s'posed t' be superstitious!"

"I still don't understand," Winokur pressed. "Latura said herself that Martin helped her reach Redwall, so what you say now flies in the face of reason, Abbess."

"Not at all. Martin needed Latura to come to Redwall, and then he needed her to leave again. It's as simple as that."

"So does this mean y' ain't gonna go after her?"

"Yes, General. That is what it means."

"Now, just hold on there ... " Geoff leaned farther over the table toward Vanessa. "This has not been definitely decided yet. We have much still to debate, and discuss - "

Vanessa cut him off. "It has been decided. We are not going after her. And believe me when I say I speak with an authority greater than that of any Abbot or Abbess."

Harth banged his fists on the table. "I don't berlieve this!"

"You may be excused now, General," Vanessa told him. "We don't have much more to cover anyway, and we don't need a disgruntled influence disrupting our remaining discussion."

Harth was not alone in being incensed by this dismissal. But he was the only one who pushed back his chair, rose, and stalked from Cavern Hole, stomping across the floor and up the steps to Great Hall, glowering and silent.

Log-a-Log was the first to speak in the rat's absence. "By all rights, we Guosim ain't even Redwallers proper, but even I know not t' make light o' things where Martin might be involved. Now, Nessa, you spoke earlier of a twin threat Lattie poses to Redwall if'n she were t' stay. What's the other one?"

"I was waiting for sombeast to ask. The truth is, Urthblood wants Latura, and he wants her very, very badly. He knows, or at least guesses, the threat she poses to him, and he will stop at nothing - absolutely nothing - to gain her. What happens if we do mount a rescue expedition and, against all odds, succeed in recovering her and bearing her back to Redwall? He tried subterfuge to win this prize, and if that fails, he will not be so subtle in his next attempt. He will come to us again, not with six Gawtrybe but with a thousand warriors, if that's what it takes. He will batter down our gates, tumble our walls, and dismantle this Abbey stone by stone to get Latura. It would not even be a war; he would simply annihilate anything and anybeast standing in his way. In this sense, Latura poses an existential threat to Redwall almost as surely as she does to Urthblood, even if it is through no fault of her own." Vanessa looked to Traveller and Melanie. "The Long Patrol know whereof I speak, having debated this very matter in hushed tones in the dead of night down in their tunnels. If the rest of you doubt what I say about Urthblood, ask the Field Marshal here about the secret standing orders he and the Colonel worked out between them when the rats arrived to seek shelter among us."

All eyes went to the two hares, who looked as startled as anybeast. "How th' bally bloomin' blinkin' blazes did you know ... " Traveller started to inquired before trailing off.

"The ears of Martin hear most of what goes on in this Abbey, Field Marshal. And I will speak with you in private after we are finished here, hopefully to dissuade you from what you have in mind." Vanessa addressed the assemblage as a whole. "For those of you lacking long ears and scuts, I can tell you in a nutshell that our Long Patrol friends have long worried that Urthblood would try to create some manufactured crisis between himself and Redwall as a pretext for moving against us openly, and have more recently feared that this entire affair with Mossflower's rats may have been just that. And while I believe they are mistaken in the particulars, they may be more right in broader terms than even they realize - as I have just outlined. Urthblood might not have designed the Accord and the Purge as stepping stones to war with Redwall, but that is precisely where matters will lead if we were to continue to shelter Latura. For this reason if no other, we must let her go, as much as it pains us to do so."

"It's all well and good to sit there and talk about pain," Winokur accused, clearly holding back empathic tears of frustration, "but Lattie's the one out there who'll be feeling that pain. If she's really that great a threat to Urthblood, and that badger knows it, he'll slay her on sight."

"I suspect that is almost certainly what will happen."

"And that doesn't bother you at all?"

"Of course it does. What caring, feeling beast could not help but be moved by Latura's plight? But I accept matters for what they are, and must look to them, and past them, now. For the future of Redwall."

"Well, I cannot accept it, Abbess. I cannot."

"You must, Winokur. However much it grieves you, you must."

"The Abbess's right," Traveller announced to the group. "This is a perilous time, if wot she says about Urthblood is true. Much as it grates my gizzard to let him get away with wot he's pulled on us here, if this's something he'd go to war with us over, we can't chance it. If he brought the bulk of his forces to bear against us - an' he may be free to do just that, now that he's got this Accord worked out with Tratton - we'd never be able to stand against him. Mebbe we'll hafta face him someday, but I'd just as soon push that day off for as long as we jolly well can. We might not be ready to meet such a challenge then, but we're surely not prepared for it now." He locked defiant gazes with Vanessa for the barest moment. "No Redwaller must go after Latura."

"How did Urthblood even know about her?" Winokur asked, still overwrought at this turn in the discussion. "How did he know she was here, and to send the Gawtrybe to abduct her?"

Traveller sighed. "Could've been Lady Mina - you know she'd drop an acorn on anybeast for that badger without battin' a pretty eyelash - or those foxes with that signalling mirror up in their tower. But in my bones, I don't think His Bloodiness needed anybeast to tell him about Lattie. Power like she's got, she must've been on his bally charts for a long time - maybe seasons. Could be she's always been part of his long-term plans."

"Then why would he wait until she was at Redwall to move against her?" Geoff wondered. "It would have saved him a great deal of trouble and awkwardness if he'd taken her before we'd ever heard of her, and certainly before she found sanctuary within our walls."

"You talk about Latura as if she were just an object, an inert prize to be claimed at Urthblood's leisure," Vanessa told him. "This is more a balance of powers, a dance of prophetic wills. Urthblood wanted to find Latura, but she didn't want to be found. Add in Martin, and the situation becomes convoluted indeed, and not nearly as straightforward as you just made it sound."

Winokur cradled his head in his paws. "I can't believe we're just going to throw Latura to the wolves like this ... "

"Latura is gone," Vanessa said. "But all the rats she guided to Redwall are still here. Without her, they would have been prey to Urthblood's Purge, and would likely not have fared well this season. Every one of them is now, in a sense, a little piece of her which will endure with us here even when she cannot. And that in itself is a powerful legacy that few creatures throughout history would be able to claim." She gazed down at her interlaced paws on the table before her. "And the very fact that she is such a hero to them may cause us some problems in the short term. But I must think beyond that, and any inconvenience we may incur as a result."

Elmwood spoke for the first time; as Alexander's second-in-command of the Forest Patrol, he'd seldom been invited to participate in such councils, and up until now remained content to listen and observe. But now his very ranking in the Abbey hierarchy stirred him to speak. "So, are we not sending out any rescue party at all? Because right now Alex and Colonel Clewiston are out there chasing after Latura, thinking we'll be sending help at any moment. If we're not, we need to let them know, and let them know now."

Melanie and Traveller traded a knowing, wordless glance. "I have not forgotten my husband. His position worries me, but I can't allow personal feelings to affect what we do. I can't."

"We will send out more Sparra to recall Alexander and the Colonel, as soon as we are done here," Vanessa said. "We should be able to turn them back before they catch up to Matowick's group. If they expect reinforcements, they likely will refrain from engaging the Gawtrybe until their numbers are bolstered. Once they learn no further help is coming, they'll have no choice but to disengage from their pursuit and return to the Abbey."

"We hope," muttered Geoff.

Maura sighed, a deep, shuddering inhale and exhale of her massive badger's lungs that almost shook the table. "I don't like this any more than Winokur, I suspect - the Abbey youngsters are my primary concern, and they've all grown very fond of Latura - but if the will of Martin truly is involved in this, and if there's a chance this could lead to wider conflict with Lord Urthblood, then I concede we must yield to Vanessa's counsel, however much it rubs us the wrong way."

Geoff gave a sigh to match Maura's, if far less impressive in scope. "Well, without Alex or the Colonel here to weigh in on this - or Montybank either - I suppose we've heard from those who matter most. Our miraculously-returned Abbess, our stalwart Badger Mother and the ranking Long Patrol commander on the scene all concur we should not go after Latura. And although my heart may question that decision, my head tells me to yield to the arguments presented here. Even if we were still of a mind to mount a rescue, it would be our Abbey defenders who would have to lead it - and with those defenders now telling me they would not take part in such an effort, that rather settles things, doesn't it?"

"Not quite," Winokur interjected. "Not just yet. As you pointed out yourself, Abbot, neither Alexander nor Colonel Clewiston are here. Can we be so certain they would agree with this consensus? Their first instinct, after all, was to give chase, on the assumptions we'd send more Abbeybeasts to aid them - and I think that says it all, doesn't it? What if they refuse to break off their pursuit when we tell them to, and press on with it? Will we still withhold reinforcements, even then?"

Traveller looked distinctly uncomfortable at this turn in the discussion. "The Colonel knows wot he's gotta do - an' wot the Long Patrol's gotta do - in a case like this. He knows Redwall must not become involved in this."

Vanessa added, "Alex and the Colonel don't know what we know. Once they are appraised of all aspects of the situation, my hope is that they will see sense, and do the only sensible thing." Her gaze went to Traveller. "Although it may take some ... convincing."

The sound of angry and excited voices from up in Great Hall rose to a new crescendo of outrage, no doubt incited by Harth's account of what he'd heard in Cavern Hole. "I know at least a couple of hundred creatures who'll have as hard a time accepting this decision as I do," Winokur stated in response to the elevated noise level upstairs.

"Reckon they'll cause trouble?" Log-a-Log wondered.

"If they do, I'll be counting on your Guosim to help us keep that trouble from getting too far out of paw. But for now, let's tend to the more immediate things. Elmwood, would you please go round up Cyril and Cyrus and have them sound the toll to summon the Sparra down to us? I'd have thought the previous council tolling might have brought Highwing to this meeting, but apparently our sparrow friends are in some disarray themselves, with so many of their number out escorting Alex and the Colonel. They'll need to be called back too, so the sooner we set that in motion, the better."

"Yes, Abbess, right away!" The squirrel all but leapt from his seat and scurried across Cavern Hole to perform Vanessa's bidding, but ascending the short flight up to Great Hall he almost ran into the shrew Worssel on his way down to the subterranean gathering.

Sensing the look of urgency on his underling's face, Log-a-Log barked out, "What is it, Worss? What's goin' on up there?"

"A whole bunch of them riled-up rats tried t' storm out onta th' grounds, sayin' they was gonna retake their weapons an' do sumpthin' 'bout this if nobeast else was gonna. T'was all we an' the Abbey squirrels 'n' otters could do t' stop 'em from doin' just that."

"But y' got it under control now?"

"Aye, fer that lot. But while we were busy with 'em, a smaller group pushed their way upstairs, sayin' they meant t' take the Infirmary, an' hold Lady Mina hostage 'til her tribeskin give Lattie back."

"Well, didja stop 'em?"

"We couldn't, Chief! They had too big a head start, an' most of us were busy holdin' the doors when they did it. Looks like they're up there now."

"Are Arlyn and Metellus still in Great Hall, tending to the hornet stings?" Vanessa asked. Most everybeast else had risen to their footpaws at this alarming news, but she remained seated, radiating calm control.

"Aye," Worssel replied, "much as they can. Kinda too disrupted up there t' treat much of anything."

"Good. Then at least we still have our healers, even if we don't for the moment have our Infirmary. Otherwise, this could have been a lot worse. Still, I suppose something must be done."

"Gee, do ya think?" Log-a-Log shot back, rather nonplussed at the Abbess's seemingly detached demeanor.

"Did you really expect them to react any other way?" Winokur added, a tone of undisguised criticism directed at Vanessa. "We'll be lucky if we can prevent a full-scale riot from breaking out."

"We should have kept Harth down here until we were all ready to go up together," said Geoff, also second-guessing Vanessa. "This might become more trouble than we can handle."

Traveller and Melanie, after a quickly-whispered conversation between them, announced, "We'll go muster th' Log Patrol," as they started off toward the hares' tunnels.

"Be quick about it!" Worssel urged. "We coulda used some o' you bunnies up there just now, t' help keep them rats in their place!"

Maura shifted herself toward the stairs. "If those malcontented miscreants have done anything to harm any of the Abbey youngsters, or our guests, I'll give 'em lots worse than hornet stings to worry about!"

"Don't think that'll be an issue, marm," Worssel reported as he fell into step alongside her and Log-a-Log. "When things got t' lookin' ugly, that southern Badger Lord an' his Lady rallied all th' children to 'em, an' no rat's gone near 'em."

"Poor hosts we are," Geoff lamented, "relying on our honored guests to help serve as our own defenders in a time of crisis." He looked to Vanessa; the two mice and Winokur were alone in Cavern Hole now, everybeast else having rushed out to see to these matters. "Well, aren't we going up too?"

Vanessa finally pushed her chair back and rose to her footpaws - but her gaze lay elsewhere. "Winokur, you know a thing or two about fighting. Arm yourself, and stick close to Geoff's side. Make sure no harm befalls our Abbot. I'll join you presently, but first, there is something else I must see to."

As Geoff and Winokur looked on in puzzlement, Vanessa strode off toward the opposite exit from Cavern Hole, following after Traveller and Melanie.


	7. Chapter 79

**CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE**

The gathering chamber of the Long Patrol was packed.

Traveller stood at the front of the room, Melanie at his side, just as she'd been ever since her husband's departure from Redwall. With the Colonel gone, Traveller needed no help in asserting his authority as commander here, but under circumstances as extraordinary as these, having Clewiston's wife standing in solidarity beside him didn't hurt one bit.

"You all know the drill," the old hare officer snapped off. "Single chaps only for this run. Bad 'nuff we've got th' Colonel out there already, so we're not puttin' any other mums or dads on th' bally line here. Pepper, you're in charge o' this little excursion, since you're a faster runner than Trobbs these days, an' speed's wot we need most, t' catch up with those brushtailed blighters; once you meet up with Clewy, he'll take over from you an' run the bally show. Choose the five hares you'd most want at your side in a tussle, an' that'll be your team. Mizzy 'n' Givvy are up in the kitchens now, cobblin' together some travel tuck you can grab on your way out - with all th' blinkin' bruhaha that's been goin' on today, I doubt anybeast'll question 'em. They'll meet you at the north wallgate, since leavin' that way's less likely to raise a fuss."

"You really think the Abbess'll try'n stop us?" Sergeant Peppertail asked.

"After hearin' her upstairs just now, wouldn't count on her doin' otherwise."

"But, just six of us, sir?" Traughber inquired. "You wager that'll be enuff for the job?"

"Why wouldn't it be? Six hares to put paid to six squirrels - an' don't forget, we'll have Alex 'n' the Colonel on our side too once you rendezvous with them. An' mebbe all those Sparra too, unless the Abbess succeeds in recallin' them. Surely you don't grant those treewallopers as bein' an even fightin' match for Long Patrol hares, Sergeant?"

Lieutenant Gallatin remained dubious. "I can see Trobbs' point, sah. Those Gawtrybe can even things up pretty quick with those shafts of theirs, an' then some. They could put our squad in their graves quicker'n I care to admit."

"No need to worry 'bout that, 'tenant," Melanie told him. "I happen to know something they don't. You see, it just so - "

"Excuse me, what's going on here?"

Silence fell over the gathering chamber as all eyes turned to see Vanessa framed in the doorway to the tunnel beyond, gazing in at the assembled hares with an appraising look that conveyed she'd come here expecting to find exactly what she had.

"Just Long Patrol business, marm," Traveller returned, getting over his initial surprise at Vanessa's intrusion; Redwallers of other species so seldom ventured into this domain of the Abbey hares that it was truly unusual to see a mouse among them - although, on this day, if any mouse was to be seen in these warrens, it made sense that Vanessa would be the one.

Her lip curled in disapproval. "I can guess what business you speak of, and I hardly consider it the sole province of the Long Patrol at all. Field Marshal, a word with you in private, if you will."

"Just wot I was jolly well about to suggest m'self. Hold steady, everyhare, won't be a trice." Taking his leave of his fellow Long Patrol, Traveller stepped out into the passage with Vanessa. Behind them, many shuffling footpaws edged closer to the doorway, and nearly every long ear cocked to pick up as much of the "private" conversation as they could.

Vanessa regarded Traveller severely in the hallway lamplight. "You're going after her, aren't you?"

"Bloody well right we are ... marm."

"Even after what I said upstairs?"

"Especially after that. If old Bloodface wants Lattie so fur-sodden badly, that's the very best reason not t' let him get his greedy claws on her, seems t' me. An' if she's really capable of destroyin' him, then the one single solitary thing we _can't_ afford to do is sit back an' let him have her. Those were th' Colonel's standin' orders, an' they would've been mine too, if he hadn't beaten me to th' bally punch. You bet your habit we're goin' after her!"

Vanessa twitched her whiskers, perhaps surprised at the vehemence with which Traveller flaunted her wishes. "Funny, up in Cavern Hole I heard you say no Redwaller must interfere in this affair, for risk of drawing Urthblood's wrath."

"And I meant every bally word of it, too. This we do as the Long Patrol, apart from Redwall, apart from this Abbey, apart from any of you fine folk - so that if it does go awry, this'll come back on us, not you. This is between us an' Urthblood."

Vanessa smirked. "I'll resist the obvious pun about splitting hares, and settle for pointing out that you've clearly not thought this through. Suppose this mission succeeds, and you do win Latura back? Where will you take her? There's only one place in all the lands where she'll be safe, and that's here at Redwall ... which would put us right back on a collision course with Urthblood. And this I cannot allow. If your hares return to our gates with Latura, they and she will be barred from this Abbey, on my orders."

"Then mebbe we'll stash her somewhere else, an' put a good strong guard around her."

"And where would that be? Not anywhere in Mossflower, or the Northlands, nor perhaps even Southsward. Urthblood would still come for her, sooner or later, and you would not be able to stop him from taking her."

Traveller's resolve seemed to falter for the barest instant. "We'll find some place. We'll find some way."

"Field Marshal, I forbid you from doing this."

"Oh no you don't!" Traveller exploded. "You don't get to do this! You bloody flippin' jolly well don't! Not now - not after prancing about the place for the past three seasons like a noggin-curdled, brainbox-battered basket case! Wot, now that you've returned to us outta th' bloomin' blue, with no blinkin' warning or explanation, we're supposed to just drop all our memories of wot you've been like all that time an' kowtow to your every order, even if it doesn't make a lick of sense?"

"It does make sense, Field Marshal, if you stop to think it through; I suspect you already realize this yourself, at least partly, at least on some level. And you've already had your explanation for my recovery. That Latura was able to restore me to my former self with the most fleeting of touches ought to stand as proof of the power she possesses, and of the truth of my statements."

"Oh, it's hardly her power that's the question, wot? You say she's a threat to Urthblood. How do we know rescuing Lattie an' bringing her back to Redwall won't be th' very thing that leads to his downfall? Mebbe he'll try 'n' attack us to get her, an' that's wot exposes him for wot he is, an' turns all the goodbeasts of the lands against him? Mebbe that's exactly wot we've got to do."

"It doesn't happen that way."

He eyed her suspiciously. "Now you're soundin' a lot like Lattie y'self."

"Field Marshal, do you and the Long Patrol still regard Urthblood as a threat to the lands, and to this Abbey?"

"You know you don't even hafta ask that, marm. Course we do - goes without sayin'."

"Then listen to me well. I am limited in what I can reveal, and how I came by such knowledge. But having Latura come to stand before Urthblood is the _only_ way she can threaten him. Even he does not suspect he acts now only to hasten his own potential undoing. If you act now to prevent that, you will squander your one and only chance to neutralize the threat he poses to Redwall and Mossflower. Nobeast else in all the lands holds the means to unseat him as she can. If you bring her back to Redwall, he wins - it's as simple as that. And then, unchallenged, his rule will stretch the span of generations, and your sons and daughters will never see the inside of Salamandastron - except perhaps as slaves and prisoners."

"That's some bleak picture you paint there, marm. But how can we accept it as true? Wot if you're wrong?"

"I'm not wrong. I have dwelt between the realm of the living and the dead for some time now. I picked up a few things while held in that limbo. I know things about Urthblood that no mortal creature could know - and about Latura too. Make the wrong choice now, and Urthblood will remain your problem for seasons to come ... assuming you even succeed, which I see as highly doubtful."

"If this really is such an all-fired big deal, why don'tcha just use some o' your hypnotizin' mind magic on me? Wave your paws, make me change my mind an' then forget you were ever here, like you've done with some of the other folks hereabouts?"

"I can't. This is too important. This moment represents a fulcrum point of history, a juncture in the confluences of fate, a crux of destiny which determines all future possibilities. I cannot impose my will upon it - not totally. Freedom of choice must prevail here - your freedom of choice, Field Marshal. The decision must be yours. I can only hope to influence you in the way that I am now."

"Mmhmm." Traveller glanced back over his shoulder; several faces peered at them from the meeting chamber doorway. "Sergeant, have you got your team assembled yet? Mizzy 'n' Givvy are waitin' on us topside!"

"Um, er, right on it, sah!" Immediately, one of the curious heads withdrew from the portal, and a murmur of voices arose from within as a score of hares stepped forward to volunteer for the mission at paw.

"Field Marshal, I can tell you now that if your hares go out there to take on Urthblood, not all of them will come back. Maybe not any of them."

"We all know th' bloomin' stakes, marm. We're the Long Patrol, an' we've never shied away from a worthy fight before - or from doin' wot's right."

"Urthblood will stop at nothing to win what he seeks here. He will spill blood and take lives to get Latura to Salamandastron."

"Our blood, our lives - which is why it's gotta be us instead of ordinary Redwallers. Push comes t' shove, we'll not blink at spilln' a little Northlander blood of our own. An' if Urthblood considers that an act of war, let his war be with the Long Patrol, an' not Redwall."

"An' let it be with th' Guosim too," came a gruff voice from down the corridor. Mouse and hare turned to see Log-a-Log stumping along the passage toward them. "We ain't Redwallers neither, t' be technikkle 'bout it, an' we been with Lattie ever since th' quarry, so I've grown kinda attached to that airy liddle ragamuffin. So let's go get 'er, says I!"

"Gee, must be open house day down here an' everybeast forgot t' tell me," Traveller grumbled. "How'd you figure it out, Log-a-chum?"

"T'wasn't hard, with ev'rything goin' t' Hellgates upstairs, an' the only two o' you bunnies to be seen anywhere raidin' the larders an' stuffin' provision packs. Pretty clear whatcha got in mind, even if you left the opposite impression at our meetin' up there. An' we Guosim're hardly ones t' sit back an' let somebeast else do all th' fightin' fer what's right."

"Ah. Well, much as we'd love t' have you chappies along for this stroll, when our team leaves it'll be at full bally tilt, t' catch up with Alex an' the Colonel fast as they can. No offense, but shrew legs aren't exactly made for keepin' pace with hare legs."

Log-a-Log took this as a challenge. "You set whatever pace you want, an' you just see if we can't keep up. Our legs might he half as long as yours, but you'll see we can move 'em twice as fast!"

Traveller remained dubious. "How many o' you halfmice plan on joinin' us on this little jaunt? With those frightful ratfaces threatenin' trouble, we don't wanna leave Redwall too lightly defended, don'tcha know."

Log-a-Log flashed a toothy grin. "Well, as me old Log-a-Pa might've said, that's whatcher call a self-correctin' problem. When our rat friends see there's a serious contingent that means business headin' out after Lattie, they'll not be agitatin' half as much as they're doin' now. Way I figger, we can spare a score or so, an' not bat an eye 'bout it."

"Ah, good thinkin'. Welcome then, but a word to th' wise right up front: If my hares find you slowin' 'em down, they'll not slack their stride, slow their steps or loiter 'round waitin' up for you."

"Wouldn't ask 'em too - an' mebbe we'll just hafta show you that when it comes t' scrappin', we 'halfmice' 're as good as a whole hare!"

Traveller and Log-a-Log shook paws, then the Field Marshal looked to Vanessa. "Sorry, Abbess marm, but we're goin'. You may get t' say wot Redwallers can 'n' can't do, but we're settin' ourselves outside that now. An' if Martin really does mean t' try 'n' stop us, guess he'll hafta do it his jolly self."

"He just did ... and it appears he's failed." Vanessa turned away with a heavy sigh. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got an Infirmary to liberate."

00000000000

As the afternoon stretched on, Alexander and Clewiston found themselves having to take more frequent rest breaks, even as the Western Plains wore away under their footpaws. The Colonel, more suited to an extended run over such terrain than his squirrel companion, nevertheless felt his long seasons working against him, and so the pair quickly fell into a rhythm that satisfied both of them. And never did they despair that their measured progress might allow their quarry to escape them; indeed, the knot of Gawtrybe came within sight early in this chase, and if anything the Abbeybeasts continued to close the gap, however slowly. The simple truth was that six squirrels pushing along two reluctant - and not at all athletic - rats could never hope to outpace or even match two warriors travelling alone and unencumbered. Indeed, the two Redwallers didn't want to get much closer than they were now, preferring to hold off until the anticipated reinforcements arrived.

Overhead, meanwhile, their Sparra escorts continued to circle and swoop, added assurance that the hunted would not be able to put on an unexpected burst of speed, veer off in a new direction or try to go to ground and hide to throw off their pursuers. The sparrows also ensured that no larger group of Urthblood's forces could rendezvous with Matowick's squad to take the Abbeybeasts by surprise.

One glance at the sky, however, gave all the reminder necessary that the Sparra hardly had the high ground to themselves. Far above the Abbeybirds, gray-and-white gulls wheeled and cried, taking a keen interest in the drama unfolding below them. And every once in a while a much larger winged silhouette, dwarfing the Sparra and even the more formidable gulls, could be seen riding the thermals and holding court over the lesser avians present at the scene.

Seated on a grassy hillock, collecting his breath for their next sprint, Clewiston eyed one such shape. "Looks like His Bloodiness is pullin' out all the bally stops for this dance, wot? D' you suppose that's that falcon who's stopped by the Abbey from time to time over the seasons, or somethin' larger? Hard t' tell, at that height. Bit of a showoff, if you ask me."

Alexander squinted up at the birdspeck. "It could be Kystra, or it could be somebird else - can't be sure. Although I think we can safely rule out that owl who dropped by the Abbey last night!"

"Hmm - speaking of dropping by, here comes one of our own featherbags right now. Let's hear what he's got to report."

"Hopefully that help's on the way. At this rate, we'll be most of the way to the mountains by the time we overtake those Gawtrybe."

Sourbill plopped onto the soft spring meadowgrass alongside them. "Shrewcrawlers move in behindyou, northsouth!"

"Shrews?" Alex asked. "Urthblood's Northland shrews?"

The Sparra nodded. "Upfromsouth, downfromnorth, closegap wherefrom youcame."

"Hmm. Sounds like a classic flanking rearguard action," the Colonel assessed. "Any sign of them comin' after us?"

"Toosoon tosay, shrewcrawlers meetup justnow. Not chaseyet."

Alex looked to the hare. "I'll bet they're not for us at all."

"My thoughts 'xactly, chap. They're not to stop us goin' after those bushtails, but to stop any support from the Abbey reachin' _us_. They must figure there's not much we can do on our own, if it's kept to just th' two of us. Could well be that the first blood shed in this engagement won't be in front of us, but behind us."

Alexander's brow furrowed. "Do you think they'll really resort to lethal force to stop us?"

"Do you honestly doubt for one moment that they would?"

"No. No, I guess not. Let's get moving again; we've rested here long enough."

The two questors had only jogged on a short way farther when a different Sparra by the name of Binch flapped down to land before them. "Listenup, listenup! Rescueoff, rescueoff! Nohelpcoming! Abbesssays, returnto Abbey, nochase, nochase! ColonelAlex, comebacknow!"

"Wot?!" Clewiston shouted, having missed an important element of the bird's rapidfire recall message. "Has the Abbot gone off his flippin' rocker? Why isn't he sending help?"

"Not AbbotGeoff," Binch corect. "AbbessNessa."

"Nessa?" Alex and Clewiston declared in joint surprise.

"Yupyupyup. NessaAbbess greenhabit now, takecharge now, giveorders now. Nessasays, nochase, nohelp."

The Colonel chuffed out his whiskers. "Well, if that's not the furshagged strangest ... Alex chappie, you have any clue or inkling this was comin' down the bloomin' pike?"

"None whatsoever, Colonel. Last I heard, Nessa was the very beast suspected of causing the hornet swarm, and perhaps some of the other mischief this morning." Looking back to the bird, he asked, "Just to make absolutely certain we're understanding you correctly, Vanessa has reclaimed the place of Abbess, and has decreed that no Abbeybeasts are to be sent after us to help rescue Latura, and that we ourselves are to break off pursuit and return to Redwall?"

Binch bobbed his head in emphatic affirmation. "Nochase, norescue, allbirds backnow, allbeasts backnow. Nessasays!"

Clewiston shook his own head. "How can she even do that, even if she has returned to her bally senses? Geoff's our Abbot now; she can't just kick him out of the Abbot's chair! That's a reverse coup, that's wot it is!"

Alex drew a deep, considered breath. "Well, to say that this was unexpected doesn't even begin to cover it. What could Vanessa be thinking of?"

"Nessasay, we rescue LattyRatty, Redbadger attack Redwall."

"Well, that I can sure 'nuff believe - an' it's the first blinkin' thing I've heard come out of this featherduster's beak that makes a lick of sense. Alex chum, dunno whether you deem Nessa's orders worth followin', but I'm not turning around now. I'm stayin' in this bally chase."

Alex stared at the hare. "You can't be serious! Just the two of us, against Matowick's half-dozen, plus Urthblood's birds, plus those shrews who could come up behind us at any time? I've never been one to give my abilities short shrift, but even so, we'd not stand a chance!"

"That'd be true, chap, if it were going to be just us two. But I'm countin' on one hare to match each of those brushtailed rat thieves, with one t' spare."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Clewiston sighed. "Guess there's no point keepin' it from you any longer. That little exchange 'twixt me 'n' Mel while you were gathering up these pilfered weapons? Orders to Traveller to dispatch a team of six hares, armed an' ready for battle, to join us - an' to try an' convince all the other Abbeybeasts to stay behind, so that this is kept entirely a Long Patrol operation, in case His Bloodiness tries to paint this as a provocation by Redwall he can use to start a war. Sounds like our recovered Abbess has taken care of that second part for us - but if I know Traveller, he'll follow Long Patrol protocol above all else, act independently of Redwall in spite of any decree the Abbess lays down, an' tell Nessa, Geoff and Arlyn all to go jump in the pond if they think to forbid him. So yeah, I think we can count on another half-dozen hares to bolster our party, even if that's all we get - which still leaves the problem of you, since you _are_ a full 'n' proper Redwall defender, an' any action you take against Urthblood's forces could pose us a sticky wicket."

"Ah. So you're saying maybe I should go back, huh?"

"Might spare us 'xactly the kind of complications we're lookin' to avoid, don'tcha know. Plus, you'd be obeyin' your Abbess's orders - not that you've not taken liberties in that regard before, I know. But I'll not tell you you can't come with us if you're jolly well set on it."

Alex mulled it over. "Seems to me that if we do succeed in rescuing Latura, that'll only be half the job; we'll still need to get her back to Redwall. And I think I'm up for playing the role of escort, even if I have to sit out any fighting that lies ahead."

"Makes sense, phrased that way. Except sometimes matters don't leave a chap any choice in such things, an' you find yourself fightin' even after you swore not to. So unless you're willin' to put up your bow 'n quiver an' surrender 'em to me now - which I'd not ask, since nobeast with a brain in its head would go up against Urthblood unarmed - you might find yourself twangin' your bowstring against that badger's creatures after all. An' that could prove tricky - for all of us."

Alex considered these words. "You know, this could all be academic anyway. Traveller might surprise you and abide by Vanessa's orders after all. Or, if he does go ahead and send out more hares, they'd still have to get through that line of shrews that's formed behind us. Either way, those reinforcements might never come - which would render any decision on our part quite moot."

"Oh, they'll come, Abbess's ban or no - you don't know the Long Patrol like I do. An' as for those sawed-off ruffians lookin' to stop my chaps, weren't you there at our Salamandastron Dance earlier this season? There's no defensive line we'd not be able to run clear around, one way or the other - or, for that matter, those ill-mannered runts're short 'nuff we'd be able t' vault right over their scraggly heads, with room to spare for their raised frogstickers too. Naw, I can't see us us hares bein' stopped by Abbey mouse or Northland shrew. They'll come, you can bet your bally bush on it."

"I hope you're right, Colonel. For Latura's sake." Alex continued to debate with himself. "I'm sticking with this," he finally decided. "If your fellow Long Patrol come as you predict they will, we'll figure out what to do then. Until such time, we can at least keep shadowing Matowick, and keep tabs on him that way."

"Right-ho, chap. Kinda thought that'd be your pick, an' truth to tell, I'm glad to have a beast like you at my side in this. So I guess the question now becomes, will we still have any cover from the air?" Clewiston turned to the waiting Binch. "Do you Sparra plan on obeyin' Vanessa's edict an' all flyin' back to Redwall, or might we be able to count on some of you stayin' with this too?"

Binch cocked his head from side to side several times, brights eyes blinking, clearly perplexed by this conflict presented to him. At last he said, "Highwing make alla Sparrachoice, giveorders from WarbeakLoft. Willtell him, letchief decided forall!"

"Hmm - then this could go either way," Alex surmised. "Nessa and Highwing share a special bond going back to their youth, and I suspect that bird will think long and hard about disobeying an order from her - especially if he thinks her newly-restored state of recovery might be fragile. Then again, the Sparra often conduct themselves and their affairs independently of Redwall's furred populace. In that sense, they're perhaps even more autonomous than the Long Patrol, and having them engage Urthblood's forces would not necessarily reflect back on the Abbey leaders."

Alex looked to Binch. "Please fly back to Warbeak Loft and let Highwing know we intend to continue our pursuit of the Gawtrybe, and would welcome any assistance you can render. You'll know before we do whether the Long Patrol are on their way, so if you see them leave the Abbey, you'll know that we still mean to try to rescue Latura, and then we'll need all the help we can get!"

"Flyback, flyback, willtell, willtell!" Already, the skies immediately overhead were growing emptier, as most of the Sparra escorts had turned east and flown homeward in response to the recall summons, never imagining that the two landbeasts might consider pressing on in violation of a direct edict from the Abbess. "Highwing decide, thenmaybe wecome back, rescueratty!"

Alex and Clewiston stood for some moments watching Binch ascend into the sky to join his fellow sparrows on their way back to Redwall. Then the Colonel said, "Well, chappie, the day's not gettin' any younger, and those bushtails aren't gettin' any closer while we're just standin' here lettin' the grass grow under our paws. So let's be on our way, and see wot comes of this, wot?"


	8. Chapter 80

**CHAPTER EIGHTY**

Having seen Binch off to issue the recall orders to his Sparra comrades - and to deliver that same message to the two errant Abbeybeasts as well, for all the good it would do in Clewiston's case - Vanessa made straight for the Infirmary, where an undetermined number of Harth's rats had barricaded themselves inside, piling empty beds up against the door to keep other beasts out and holding Lady Mina ransom for Latura's return.

Hastening through Great Hall on her way to address this latest crisis in an ongoing season of crises, the revived Abbess happened to pass near Harth, who favored her with a fang-filled, smug grin. Vanessa paused before the former horderat. "I'm rather surprised to see you down here, General. Were you behind this business with the Infirmary?"

"Seizin' yer sickbay? I gave no such orders, Abbess. I'd never abuse Redwall's hospitality that way."

"Then some of your rats showed surprising initiative, for toadies who normally don't move until you say jump."

"Ahrmm - what can I say? I guess Lattie's capture's gotten those 'toadies' riled up enuff t' take matters inta their own paws - an' who could blame 'em, after learnin' some o' the things you said down at yer council?"

"Just so you are aware, General, if any harm comes to Mina - or to any other Redwaller - as a result of this incident, all rats at this Abbey will find themselves on very thin ice. Very thin ice indeed."

Some of Harth's baiting confidence fell away, as the Guosim and otters and squirrels surrounding Vanessa stood alert and ready. "That's hardly fair, holdin' ev'ryrat responsible fer the actions of a few."

"If you really feel that way, perhaps you'd care to accompany me upstairs as a gesture of good faith to help negotiate an end to this standoff and persuade your fighters to surrender Lady Mina, and our Infirmary, peacefully. If they stop this foolishness now, I may be willing to overlook this transgression and suspend any punishment they might otherwise receive."

Harth recovered a little of his bite. "No thanks, Abbess. Just 'cos I didn't order 'em to do it doesn't mean I entirely disapprove. Mebbe they're doin' 'xactly what needs to be done. Mebbe holdin' their precious Queen hostage is the one thing that'll get through to Lattie's kidnappers an' convince 'em to let 'er go."

"Doubtful, if they're acting under Urthblood's direct orders, and those orders are to bring Latura to Salamandastron at any cost. All you'll achieve by threatening harm to Mina is to make the Gawtrybe even more virulently anti-rat, and even more resolute in removing all rats from Mossflower."

"Which is happenin' anyway, no matter what we do about it."

"Maybe not for much longer."

Harth regarded Vanessa with curiosity. "Whaddya mean?"

"If Urthblood falls from power, his Gawtrybe might not be so inclined to continue this Purge with their current ardor. Presumably that badger is going to these lengths because Latura poses a threat to him. If true, then who's to say he's not engineering his own downfall, and bringing the very cause of his undoing into his presence where she will be able to fulfill such a destiny? A self-fulfilling prophecy, if you will. But it can never happen if we bring Latura back to Redwall."

"That's an awful lot o' supposes y' got goin' on there. Here's another: Mebbe that brute'll just slay 'er, an' then our one an' only true weapon we could hold against 'im will be gone, an' all th' rest of us left at his mercy."

"You need to worry about my mercy before his, since I'm not all the way out on the coastlands, and I decide who gets to remain inside these walls. I could argue this with you all day, General, but one thing I will tell you is that hostage-taking will not be tolerated at Redwall. Now I must go let those numbskulls upstairs know that in no uncertain terms. Elmwood, you're in charge here while I see to the Infirmary. Please do your best to keep order down here."

The Forest Patrol interim leader glanced around in some trepidation, not accustomed to holding the command position in any situation so fraught with potential unrest. "Um, where's Log-a-Log, and the rest of the Guosim? We could use them here ... "

"I suspect they're even now filing out through the north wallgate, along with half a dozen of the Long Patrol, in their ill-advised attempt to rescue Latura."

Harth reared back in surprise. "So, you are goin' after her after all! Why didn'tcher say so 'fore now?"

"Because they are doing so of their own accord, against my explicit wishes - and it is never wise for an Abbot or Abbess to loudly advertise when anybeast so flagrantly flaunts their authority. But yes, a rescue mission for Latura has been mounted, in its own fashion, much as you urged. You may wish to share this news with your fellow rats down here. As to whether it will succeed, that is quite another matter."

Taking leave of the rat and squirrel, Vanessa strode across Great Hall and mounted the stairs to the Infirmary level. At the end of the hallway there she found Maura, Geoff and additional otters and squirrels camped in the corridor outside the barricaded entryway. The Badgermum greeted her newly-restored Abbess with what she clearly deemed a promising announcement.

"Nuttery here thinks he and some of his fellow squirrels can scale the outside of the Abbey and go in through a window, hopefully take them by surprise and catch them off guard before they can rally a defense. Perhaps we can coordinate this with the Sparra too, and send some of them in that way as well. We'll need creatures who can either climb of fly if we are to - "

"We will do no such thing," Vanessa countermanded. "These are no undisciplined bandits we're dealing with here, but trained horde soldiers. They'll know to watch the windows - they've dwelt among us long enough now to appreciate what our birds and squirrels can do - and they could well be holding a blade to Mina's throat even as we speak - a blade which could end her life before we could lift a paw to save her."

"What blade?" Maura argued. "We've made sure to keep these rats unarmed from the day they marched in here."

"Arlyn and Metellus may have taken all their salves and ointments down to Great Hall to treat the hornet stings, but they left behind all the scalpels and surgical instruments. A scalpel's blade might be small, but it's keen enough to lay open a beast's jugular with the merest of swipes. And if those rats have found them, you can be sure there will be one pressed to Mina's neck the moment they see or hear anybeast trying to rush them."

"Then what are we to do?" Geoff fretted, utterly at a loss; from his expression, one might have inferred that he was, in a way, relieved to no longer be Redwall's chief decision-maker under these circumstances.

Vanessa stalked right up to the closed door and pounded on it with her fist. "This is the Abbess! Open up and let me in! I want to talk to you!"

A muffled voice came from the other side of the wood. "We ain't openin' up fer nobeast 'til Lattie's brung back t' Redwall!"

"Your grammar is atrocious, but we'll discuss that some other time," Vanessa yelled back at the door. "The decision not to rescue Latura was mine, not Lady Mina's. If you agree to release her, I will surrender myself to you in her stead. Then I will hear you out, and agree to abide with you until this matter is settled."

Geoff stood shocked into apoplexy at this stated intention, but Maura still had her voice. "Abbess, what in the name of Martin do you think you're doing?"

"Exactly, Maura."

Momentarily confused at this cryptic rejoinder, the badger went on, "We're not about to let you give yourself up to those barbarians. If they're desperate enough to storm the Infirmary and take Mina hostage, there's no telling what they'd do to you if you put yourself in their clutches!"

"I know what I'm doing. We need our Infirmary back ... and those rats in there need to be taught a thing or two about how things are done at Redwall." Vanessa turned back to the sealed door. "Well, I'm waiting! Do we have a deal or not?"

"It's a trick!" the muted, disembodied voice replied. "You'll rush us if'n we open this door!"

"It's no trick. I mean what I say. If you agree to this, I alone will enter, and nobeast else. You have my word on that."

A faint muttering of terse debate seemed to come from within the blockaded Infirmary - it was hard to be sure - followed by the scraping and banging of the upended beds being slid aside. Or at least partly aside, just enough for the rats within to crack open the door a paw's width and peer out into the corridor beyond. Vanessa made no move, standing her ground in plain sight for the skeptical, measuring gazes to get a clear view of her, and see that she was who she claimed. After a few moments' scrutiny, the door closed again and further murmurs were heard from behind it as some final deliberations took place.

"If they admit me," Vanessa warned Geoff and Maura, "nobeast else is to interfere. I must take care of this on my own, in my own way. Do I make myself clear?"

"Do you really place such stock in your negotiating abilities?" Geoff asked.

"If it was solely negotiating I had in mind, I could do that just as easily from out here. I must be able to look them in the eye, meet them face to face."

"I don't like this, Nessa," said the badger. "It's too dangerous."

"Maura's right," Geoff seconded. "You've only just come back to us - we can't risk something happening to you that takes you away from us again. What if you go in there and then they still refuse to release Lady Mina anyway?"

"Then they will have demonstrated their untrustworthiness. Mina may not even be in any shape to leave the Infirmary; I mean this more as a test of their intentions. But I still intend to abide by my side of the bargain. Nobeast else is to come barging in after I enter, am I understood?"

"I will make no such promise," Maura said grimly. "If I sense you to be in peril or distress, I will tear that door down with my bare paws, and I'd like to see you or anybeast try to stop me."

"Then I shall strive to avoid both peril and distress. I've given my word as Abbess that nobeast else will intrude until after we are finished speaking, and that's one promise I have no intention of breaking."

The door opened again, this time wide enough to admit Vanessa. "In y' come, then," growled the rat at the threshold. "An' no tricks, or th' squirrel princess gets it!"

As Vanessa stepped through, the rat stunned Geoff and Maura by bringing out from behind him a sword and holding it up to the Abbess's neck whilst giving a wordless snarl of warning to those in the corridor. Roughly pulling Vanessa all the way into the Infirmary and out of view, he retreated as other unseen paws slammed the door shut again and pulled the beds back into place against it.

Maura stood with fur bristling - a truly frightening sight - but feeling utterly impotent. "Where the fates did they get a sword from?"

"This is terrible," Geoff fussed and fretted. "They never said they were armed! They're holding Vanessa at swordpoint! Surely that violates any agreement she made with them!"

"Yes, it probably does," the badger grumbled in return. "And I half-suspect Vanessa was expecting them to pull something like this. But she entreated us not to interfere, and I will abide by her wishes for as long as I can. Let's be quiet now, and see if we can hear what's going on inside. If it sounds like Nessa's in serious trouble, then we'll go in. Until then, let's give her a chance to do whatever she means to try."

On the other side of the closed door, Vanessa's captor indelicately bustled her toward the center of the room. A quick survey revealed the complete tableau: the recent rat mother cradling her newborn in the bed tucked back in the near corner, looking on with wide-eyed alarm; the two rats stationed by the door to oversee the barricade; and the last rat sitting on Mina's bed with her, holding her from behind with a scalpel to her throat, just as predicted. The Gawtrybe Lady wore an expression less of fear than of frustrated annoyance, acutely aware that her injury left her in no position to exert herself fighting back, as much as she might want to.

Eyeing the empty scabbard by the squirrel's bedside, Vanessa drolly scolded, "That was rather careless of you, Lady, allowing your sword to be taken from you."

"I was wearing it when my bow broke and I was borne up here," Mina retorted, clearly unhappy with the situation herself. "Nobeast thought to remove it from the Infirmary during my treatment. Abbess, it is a relief to see you returned to your senses, but you should not have placed yourself in such jeopardy for my sake. Now they're not likely to give up either of us."

"Oh, I didn't do it entirely for your sake, Mina. This is my Abbey, and putting such things right falls to me."

"Lissen up, you two!" sneered the rat pointing Mina's sword at Vanessa. "We got Redwall's Abbess now, along with this prissy royal bushtail! An' y' know what that means? That means ye're gonna do what we tall ya, if y' know what's good for ya!"

Vanessa gave no hint of concern over her predicament. "You said you'd release Lady Mina in exchange for me, and I expect you to hold up your end of our agreement."

"In case y' ain't noterced," said another rat, moving away from the bed-barricaded door, "you ain't 'xactly in any position fer layin' down terms! We'll be hangin' on to both o' you, 'til our demands 're met!"

"And those demands would be?"

"You know what they are, Abbess! Don't go back t' playin' idjit, like you been doin' all season 'fore today! We want Lattie back, an ye're gonna make it happen."

"Very well. And here are my terms: I will do no such thing. Latura must not return to Redwall."

The rat with the sword scowled at her, showing his fangs as he prodded her none-too-gently through her habit. "Hey, you think we're playin' here?"

Vanessa stared into his anger-twisted face with a cold gaze. "You may want to put that blade down, before you hurt yourself."

"Harr! Lissen t' this mousie! Thinks she's talkin' to a clumsy ratbabe, an' not a soldier who knows from seasons how t' handle a blade - an' carve up an enemy!"

Vanessa didn't so much as blink. "I know what I'm looking at - and I'm hardly impressed."

"Abbess!" Mina hissed around the claw gripping her jaw. "These rats aren't bluffing! And now that they've got two of us, they might decide one's all they need."

"Oh truly? And what would they hope to gain that way? The expulsion of every rat from Redwall?"

The color drained from the rats' faces. "You ... you wouldn't!"

"Try me. I'm the one who gives the orders around here now, in case you'd failed to notice."

"That you are," granted the rat with the sword, a dangerous tone to his voice. "So here's what ye're gonna do - an' it won't even mean sendin' out a rescue party. Send just one o' yer birds - just one - out t' tell those thievin' squirrels we're holdin' their queen here hostage, an' that we ain't lettin' her go 'til Lattie's back safe inside Redwall. An' that mebbe we'll deprive her o' more than just her freedom if they don't meet our demands fast enuff t' suit us."

"They won't do it, not even for Lady Mina's sake. Latura is too important to Urthblood - and hence to them - for them to consider such a thing. They might not even believe you're holding Mina hostage at all, thinking it a ruse on our part to recover Latura - but even if they do, they'll rightly suspect you dare not harm her in any way, due to the repercussions you and your fellow rats would face. So you see, Mina is worthless to you; you dare not harm her, because the moment you do you will have called your own bluff, and then you will get nothing."

"Seems t' me nothing's what ye're promisin' us right now," accused the swordsrat.

"Precisely. Perhaps you're not as stupid as you look after all. Now let Mina go, give us back our Infirmary, and maybe - maybe - I'll entertain the possibility of not booting you out of my Abbey over this."

He raised his blade again, bringing its tip against Vanessa's windpipe as he stared her down. "Ye're fergettin', Abbess, we got you too. Mebbe you'd be fond o' keepin' all yer own parts, hrm? Get Lattie back fer us, or mebbe we'll see about relievin' you of some o' them."

Her reply was frosty. "Do not threaten harm to Redwall's Abbess, not here. That can only end badly for you."

"Enuff o' this!" exploded the rat holding Mina under the scalpel. "Ain't but one thing that'll convince those squirrels t' bring Lattie back to us, an' that's this 'ere royal prize o' theirs! An' if they need proof we're actshully holdin' her, an' that we've no qualms 'bout harmin' her, let's send 'em a liddle trinket provin' both!" Releasing Mina's jaw and grabbing her ear instead, he slashed away at the base of it, clearly intending to sever it from her scalp entirely.

Mina yowled, rammed her elbow hard into the rat's belly, and twisted to bite down viciously on the paw wielding the scalpel. Now it was the rat's turn to scream, the blood streaming from Mina's partly-severed ear mingling with the blood of his own that her teeth now drew. He pulled at her wounded ear, forcing her to open her jaw and release him. The soldier rat followed up with a brutal punch to Mina's stomach, enough to drive the wind out of her and make her collapse back onto the bed, momentarily stunned.

"I see now how you want this to go," Vanessa said with a resigned air, and ducked out of the sword's way, faster than the rat holding the weapon had ever seen anybeast move before. One moment she stood sedately with the blade's tip resting at her throat, and the next she was past it and upon him, wresting the sword from his grasp.

The four rats never knew what hit them.

The screams and shouts from within the Infirmary stirred Maura to terrible action. "I'm going in!" she bellowed, hurling her formidable bulk against the door like a huge furry battering ram. "If those villains have harmed so much as one whisker of Vanessa's ... RRRAAAGH!"

Geoff and the other Abbeybeasts stood back, knowing the wisdom of keeping clear from an enraged badger. In fact, most there had never seen Maura so enraged, and found the spectacle both terrifying and unnerving.

The crude barrier of upended beds yielded almost at once to Maura's massive body blows, and in no time she'd breached the makeshift barricade and pushed her way into the Infirmary, mattresses and bed frames and sheets and blankets scattered before her, the door hanging half off its hinges.

Vanessa stood calmly before her, to all appearances unharmed.

The four rats lay slain at various points throughout the chamber, Mina's bloody sword laid across the foot of the squirrel Lady's bed as Mina herself lay moaning in groggy pain.

In the nearer corner, the rat wife sat clutching her babe in trembling paws, transfixed and ashen-faced over what she'd just witnessed.

"What ... what happened here?" Maura stammered, Geoff and the others crowding the doorway behind her to see for themselves.

"Mina's ear needs some stitches," the Abbess announced. "Will somebeast please fetch Arlyn and Metellus from Great Hall to tend to that? They'll also want to check her sutures from yesterday, to make sure none have come loose. She took a pretty heavy blow to her stomach, and she was twisting and turning more than she probably should have been, given her condition."

Nobeast moved.

Vanessa sighed. "Very well. I'll go do it myself." And with that, she made to walk right past Maura and out of the Infirmary.

The badger caught her by the arm, gaze going from Vanessa to the slain rats and back again. "Nessa ... _what happened here_?"

"They refused to listen to reason. While I'm downstairs gathering up our two healers, could you at least assemble a burial detail to see to the bodies? I don't want then fouling up my Infirmary any more than they already have. On, and make sure the graves are dug _outside_ the walls. With their actions here today, they've forfeited the right to be laid to rest on our grounds. Thank you."

This time, Maura was too stunned to restrain the Abbess further. The equally stunned onlookers parted to let Vanessa pass, out of the battle-scarred Infirmary and into the corridor beyond, where she resolutely strode down the hall and disappeared from view without a backward glance.

00000000000

The ringing followed Matowick across the Plains, even if Redwall's Sparra did not.

"No sign of those Abbey birds for awhile now, Captain," Nixalis observed. "Almost looks like they've disengaged. Wonder why that is?"

"Could be Klystra scared them off," Matowick speculated, glad to be talking to help drown out the constant whine ravaging his inner ears, more distracting now in the wake of the belltower incident than ever before. "He's a more formidable warriorbird than Saugus, especially in the daytime. He may have said something to convince them to break off their pursuit, or his mere presence may have intimidated them into a retreat. Between an armored falcon and Scarbatta's aggressive gulls, those Sparra have to realize Lord Urthblood is deadly serious here."

Brisson paused a moment to gaze back behind them, paw to brow, before running to fall into step alongside his fellow Gawtrybe again. "Well, they may be gone, but it looks to me like that hare and squirrel haven't given up the chase yet."

"They're too far behind us to pose any immediate threat," said Matowick. "And as long as it's just the two of them, it's not anything we can't handle. If we stop for the night, we'll post watches to make sure they don't try anything under cover of dark, and we'll have Saugus back with us by then too, so they'll not be catching us unawares."

"If we stop, sir?" Brisson prompted.

"Depends on how we hold up, Briss ... and how our prisoners here hold up. One thing's for sure: We'll not be attempting that treacherous high pass in anything but full light. Some of those sheer drops along narrow paths were enough to give even my squirrel's stomach a few turns. Trying that at night, with bound captives? No thanks. But I can see us pushing straight through until we reach the base of the mountains, as long as our strength endures."

"Won't leave us in much shape for fighting, if it comes to that," Nixalis worried.

"Then let's hope it doesn't come to that - for our sakes, and the Redwallers' as well."

"If we do march through the night," Nixalis went on, "this terrain concerns me. These Plains may look flat and smooth from a distance, but as we found out on our way to the Abbey, up close they can be as pitted and uneven as any rougher region. Goin' on at night, it'd be very easy to step wrong and twist an ankle, or even break a leg." He glanced at Latura and Palter. "'Specially if you're not the most graceful of beasts to begin with, and have got your paws bound too."

"Saugus should be able to assist us in that area as well," Matowick maintained. "He'll see obstructions and impediments at night that we'd miss, and hopefully steer us clear of the worst of them. The sun's still high in the sky, so we've got some time yet before we need to worry about all of this. Let's see what the rest of this day's march brings, and then we'll make our plans based on that."

Those plans came in for a change sooner than Matowick would have anticipated or hoped, for just a short time later Klystra dropped out of the sky and alighted before them, his avian manner bespeaking urgency. "More creatures left Redwall," he reported. "Half-dozen hares, score shrews, crossed ditch and moving into plains, moving fast."

Nixalis looked to Matowick. "Now _that's_ a rescue party."

"And a battle group too; six Long Patrol hares would be a match for any twoscore ordinary hordesbeasts, and the shrews may be even worse news. Those pugnacious little scrappers wouldn't be coming along if they didn't think they'd get a chance to test their shrewsteel against us. Add in the squirrel and hare who are already on our tail, and that's a force that could give us some serious trouble. The only way this could be any worse would be if there were badgers chasing us."

"Um ... "

Matowick looked at Klystra. "What?"

"Badger among pursuers too. Was getting to that."

Nixalis joined the others is displaying shocked alarm. "You mean Redwall's sent their Badger Mother out after us too?!"

Klystra shook his head. "Male, not female. Not Redwall badger either."

A grimness settled over Matowick's face. "Sodexo. It must be Sodexo. Great seasons, we've got a Badger Lord hunting us."

Brisson said to his captain, "Yes, but it's not like he's a _real_ Badger Lord, is he? Not like Lord Urthblood."

"You got as good a look at him at Redwall as I did. He may have been playing the part of a family beast and honey trader and peaceful guest of the Abbey, but he's still just as much badger as any I've ever seen. Would _you_ welcome going up against him, if he gets his hackles up? Or, worse yet, if the Bloodwrath overtakes him and turns him into a berserker?"

"This isn't even his battle!" Nixalis exclaimed. "And he certainly didn't strike me as any great friend of rats. What's he even doing putting himself in the middle of this?"

"It appears we've rubbed more fur the wrong way than we'd realized. As much as I hate to say it, if it looks like they're about to charge us for close-quarters fighting, I want all shafts aimed at Sodexo. We've got to try to drop him first if we want to have any chance at all in such a contest - although even with him out of the way, that would still leave seven hares and a score of shrews to contend with, and they won't be any picnic either, even if the Sparra sit this out."

"Yeah, sir, but first they've gotta catch up with us, don't they?" Brisson said. "Shrews can't hope to keep up with hares at full lope, and that's got to be true of the badger too. So unless the Long Patrol intend to engage us on their own in a first waves ahead of the others, we've still got a wide lead they'll be hard-pressed to close. We might even reach the mountains before they can overtake us."

"That may be true. But still, the fact that they're pursuing us at all troubles me. I'd like to have some other strategy besides just trying to stay ahead of them, and girding for battle if we can't." Matowick stared back the way they'd come, Clewiston and Alexander just two vague dots in the far distance, and Redwall itself all but vanished now near the horizon line.

"It would help if this burden of ours wasn't so easy to spot," grumbled Nixalis, regarding Latura in her bright peach dress, not yet tattered and soiled by her forced march. "This fluffery the Redwallers made for her must be visible halfway across the Plains!"

"Maybe that was part of their thinking all along - make Latura too visually obvious for anybeast to move against her easily ... " Matowick's words trailed off as his gaze at Latura and Palter narrowed. "Wait a moment ... do the Redwallers even realize we have two rats with us, and not just one?"

"Well, they must," said Brisson. "If the land beasts on our tails haven't spotted it for themselves, their Sparra have been flying right over us, and the first one dropped right down to say hullo!"

Matowick looked at Nixalis askance. "That may be true - but have you ever tried to hold a conversation with one of those birds? Did you spare a moment during our time at the Abbey to listen to how they speak? Except for their eloquent leader, they're almost unintelligible - and I suspect that's as much a reflection on their scattershot way of thinking as their verbal expression. Birds in general tend to be somewhat, er, flighty in their personalities." He glanced Klystra's way. "Uh, no offense intended, Captain."

"None taken, Captain. You correct: Most birds more birdbrained than me. Hence, expression. Is certainly true of gulls, and most Sparra too."

"In any case," Matowick went on, "I'll wager even odds that the Sparra haven't even let anybeast know we took two rats, and not just one."

"Well, wouldn't they have both been missed by now?" Brisson reasoned.

"Not necessarily. We left a lot of confusion behind us at the Abbey, and besides, in all the time I spent there keeping a close eye on our target, I noticed this other one was almost always shunned and marginalized - practically a refugee among refugees, as it were. His absence might not even have been noticed yet." Matowick gazed back along their path through the Plains. "And tied up the way they are, they've had to march single-file, one behind the other, all this way ... which means even if our pursuers are paying attention to our tracks, it might not be immediately apparent that there's more than one rat in our company."

"That's an awful lot of ifs, sir," said Nixalis. "And even if that's the case, what would it avail us anyway?"

"We can at least play around with their expectations - maybe use that to our advantage, and even buy us some time, too." Matowick scanned the skies, then strode over to their captive, drawing his knife. "Still no sign of those sparrows returning, and I want to get this done quickly in case they do." He cut the line connecting Latura and Palter, then sawed through the rope knots binding their individual paws.

His companions begrudged even the scant moments this activity was costing them. "Sir," Brisson urged, "those Redwallers aren't falling any farther behind while we're tarrying here ... "

"Don't worry, Briss - if my hunch is correct, this'll be well worth a short delay ... and might make all the difference if we are overtaken." Fully liberating the two rats from their bonds, restoring unrestricted freedom of movement to them, he pointed his knife first at Latura, then Palter. "Both of you - take off your clothes."


	9. Chapter 81

**CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE**

Not surprisingly, Sergeant Peppertail and his Long Patrol led the way out into the Western Plains, fanning out and ranging ahead of the Guosim in probing forays to scout out the lay of the land before them.

And there among the thick of the shrews, towering above them like a mobile island with his short but powerful legs pumping to carry him along with the surging Guosim, strode Lord Sodexo of the Southern Glades, wielding as his only weapon a sturdy ash stave twice the height of any of the creatures surrounding him.

"Still not sure why you saw fit t' come along," Log-a-Log panted to the badger as they jogged beside each other, the shrew with sprightly steps compared to Sodexo's lumbering momentum. "You ain't even from around these parts, and you've no direct quarrel with Urthblood ... "

"On the contrary, friend shrew, I am starting to think I have a quarrel on a number of levels with this beast who also calls himself Badger Lord. The way his forces treated me during my journey to Redwall was bad enough, but now he has violated the trust and sanctity of that very Abbey itself. The good folk there have shown me naught but the best of their hospitality over the seasons, and I cannot stand idly by after such an affront to them. The circumstances call for action - so act I will."

"Yah, then I reckon that puts you 'n' me in pretty much th' same boat. We Guosim ain't Abbeybeasts, strictly speakin', but near 'nuff so, since we winter there. S'pose you c'd say that makes us seasonal Redwallers, if naught else. But we're sworn allies, an' not about t' let this rat-theft go unanswered. The Abbess may be content t' let Lattie be snatched away, but she's got no say over what we Guosim do out in th' wider world, so after Lattie we'll go!"

"It is much the same with me," Sodexo concurred. "I am not a Redwaller myself, so the Abbess's decree does not bind me, but I am a friend and ally of Redwall also, and this transgression must be answered."

"Even so, ye've got a wife an' daughter back at the Abbey. You'd be fergiven fer not takin' this on yerself."

"And you've got a son back there too," Sodexo returned. "Yet I do not see you staying behind or shying from this challenge."

Log-a-Log grinned widely. "Guess beasts like you 'n' me, we get down t' what needs doin', simple as that. So, ye've naught fer arms 'cept that long stave?"

Sodexo hefted the thick staff. "It is the only weapon at which I am practiced. I am no warrior, but I can acquit myself well enough to defend myself - and to protect my companions."

"Well, ye'll get t' test yer skills right soon enuff, since these beasts we're goin' up 'gainst_ are_ trained 'n' battle-hardened warriors, an' some o' the toughest ye're like t' find anywheres. Squirrels at th' very least, an' mebbe shrews too, goin' by what our Sparra reported back to us."

Sodexo eyed the Long Patrol rushing to and fro across the Plains before them. "We've warriors of our own, and if what I've heard about these perilous beasts is true, we will be well-matched against any challenger we meet. But, why do they follow that pattern of back-and-forth dashes, rather than just ranging straight out ahead? Do they fear opening up too great a lead over us?"

"Aye, that's part o' the reason, I'm sure. But th' Long Patrol allers were a cautious bunch, an' they're makin' extra sure there's no ambushes or traps ahead, so's we don't blunder inta them."

"Traps?"

"Why, sure. When Urthblood sets 'is mind t' sumpthin', he's not a beast t' go halfway. Just 'cos all we saw at the Abbey was Matowick's gang o' six, who's t' say that badger didn't have other beasts o' his out here makin' other preparations, along the exact route he'd know his Gawtrybe would be takin' - an' any pursuers would be takin' too? Can't be too careful when dealin' with a creature like that."

"You sound almost as if you admire him."

"Well, there's a lot about 'im _to_ admire, even after this underpawed fiasco. He tamed th' Northlands, made honest an' respectable beasts outta vermin, an' fought th' Searat King to the bargainin' table, where Urthblood laid down 'is own terms. But fer me, it's more pers'nal than any o' that. Dunno if you heard th' tale while at the Abbey, but two summers ago he rescued my son Pirkko, who'd been captured by slaver foxes an' passed on to the searats, who'd've kept him in chains from that day t' this, if he even survived. All this time I've considered Urthblood an ally an' a boon to all th' lands, but after the events o' this season ... " Log-a-Log shook his head doubtfully. "I dunno. I just dunno."

"It seems you will always owe this badger a debt for your son ... and yet you now march to potentially do battle with him."

"Not him," Log-a-Log sharply corrected. "His creatures. They might be followin' his orders, but there's still a diff'rence 'tween takin' them on, an' takin' on Urthblood 'imself. Even after all that's happened, I'd still think twice 'fore doin' _that_."

"A split of a fur strand, if you ask me." Sodexo gazed ahead. "It seems our Long Patrol friends have discovered something of concern, to judge by how they are congregating and conferring all of a sudden. Let us hope it is nothing too serious."

"Well, we're about t' find out, 'cos here they come now."

The six hares came loping back to rejoin their shrew and badger cohorts. "Got some trouble up ahead, chappies," Peppertail reported. "Those Northland shrewsnouts, a tiny little host of 'em, stretched out right across the path we need t' follow. Looks like they mean t' keep us gettin' by."

"How many, y' figger?"

"Most of the bally way to a score, Log-a-Thing. I'd say they've got your little troop here pretty evenly matched, shrew for shrew."

"But no other beasts - just shrews?" Sodexo probed.

"Just shrews. Which wouldn't be a blinkin' issue if it were just us hares goin' up against 'em - we'd be able t' duck an' bob an' weave our way right past 'em, an' nothing they'd be able t' do about it. But you slowpokes don't have that option, I'm afraid. When they see you comin', they'll move to block you, an' they're mobile enough t' do just that. Looks like there's naught for it but to go into 'em foursquare, an' batter our way through." Peppertail's gaze went to Sodexo. "An' I'd say we've got one 'mongst us who'd do a jolly smashing job of just that, wot?"

"Even if the Guosim and I could somehow join you in getting past them through speed rather than blows, they would doubtless pursue, harrying and engaging us from behind ... perhaps even unleash hails of slingstones to try to take some of us down. We'd not be able to outpace them entirely; they're more rested than we are, and likely could easily overtake us. I fear there will be bloodshed, on both sides, long before we've even caught up to the Gawtrybe."

"Only one thing for it then," declared the shrew chieftain. "If them chasin' us is gonna be an issue, we'll just stay behind an' keep 'em tied up while you speedsters race ahead to meet up with Alex an' Colonel Bunny. If there's one thing we Guosim oughta be able t' handle, it's other shrews! Knew there was a reason I wanted t' come along fer this run, an' now I know what it is!"

"This sounds like a logical plan," Sodexo granted. "I too will remain behind to engage the shrews and keep them from pursuing, if need be, although I would ideally prefer to press on in pursuit of the Gawtrybe. But the success of this mission takes priority over any individual desire."

"Well put, Lord," Log-a-Log said. "Let's forge on ahead, then, an' see how this whole thing shakes out!"

00000000000

Latura had never flown before.

With Klystra's formidable talons gripping either arm under the shoulder, the ratmaid dangled free beneath the falcon, her legs and tail waving and swaying in time to each beat of the mighty wings. Palter's swapped, threadbare tunic hung loosely upon her frame, although not as freely as most male rats' garments would, so close in size were the two rodents - a fact which had not escaped Matowick's notice, and had helped inspire this ruse.

Far from terrified, Latura found herself enraptured by the novel spectacle of the land rushing past beneath her, far below. The drop surely would have proven fatal, even against the soft spring meadows, but she could not think that way. While much of her future lay hidden to her, she knew she was in no danger now, as surely as she'd known her life would not end in Krayne's valley. More lay beyond this moment for her, and she doubted it not for one instant.

"Higher! Go higher!"

"We fly quite high enough," Klystra shot back at the limply-hanging, unresisting burden in his clutches. "Need is for distance now, not speed or height."

"Aw, ye're a wet birdrag!" Latura grabbed her tail and used it to tickle at the fuzzy feathers of Klystra's left leg. The falcon, straining with her weight over this extended flight and focused on settling into a diverting rhythm of wingbeats, was caught off guard by the unexpected gesture, and reflexively loosened his grip on Latura's left shoulder, which left her suspended and swinging by just one arm.

"Fweee!"

Klystra quickly recaptured her in both talons, tightening his grip as much through annoyance as for security. "You insane?!" he accused.

Latura winced at the claws digging into her. "Ow! Not so hard, ya big meanie! I'm Latura o' Redwall, an' I'm a real 'portant beast! Martymouse said so!"

Klystra sighed. "Wish were Altidore, not me. Eagle stronger than falcon, able to carry rat farther, easier." Sighting a slight hollow before them, he aimed for it, gliding down and flapping to a momentary hovering standstill to deposit Latura upon the ground before alighting alongside her. Panting from his exertions, he told her, "We stay here for now, down out of sight. Give Captain chance to do what he means to do."

"Ooo, pretty flowers!" Flexing her shoulders from the rigors of her involuntary flight, Latura started to wander off to investigate a patch of colorful blooms, but found herself swept flat on her back with one of Klystra's talons pinning her to the ground.

"No wander off," the falcon warned. "We stay here, wait for word from Gawtrybe, or take whatever action I decide if Matowick waylaid. You stay close. Still prisoner, don't forget."

"Blah blah blah," said Latura, clearly unimpressed by the stern bird's authority. "Can I at least have a snack? Gettin' powerful 'ungered here."

Klystra fished into a pocket of his shark leather vest with his sharp curved beak, producing a small ration packet of the sort he customarily carried with him, although such provisions were intended for allies, not prisoners. "Here go. Not delicacy, but sustaining."

As Latura nibbled at the bland fare, her expression showing her distaste after so many days of enjoying Redwall's finer offerings, another winged form spiralled down from the sky to join the falcon and his pinioned captive. The gulls above, not having been consulted as to Matowick's improvised tactic of obfuscation, had sent down one of their own to investigate.

"Why you fly out ahead of redtails with ratty?" the gull inquired. "Taking prize all way to Salamandastron? That big change of plans, creeagh!"

"Maybe to mountains, not to coast," Klystra replied, gazing toward the distant range, nearer now after his flight with Latura but still misty on the horizon. "Never clear peaks with such burden. Too dangerous to try. Maybe Altidor do it. Not me."

The gull squawked derisive laughter as he stared at Latura. "Crahaahaa! Fleabag guppy not heavy at all, by look at her! Mat of dried seaweed weigh more than fuzzy sardine here!"

"Nevertheless ... " Klystra appraised his fellow avian of Matowick's strategy of forcing Latura and Palter to switch clothes, and then having Klystra bear the female rat ahead in case the pursuing beasts hadn't realized two of the rodents had been abducted from the Abbey. Concluding, the falcon said, "Must stay with target, cannot assist Gawtrybe, that up to you now. Let all other gulls know. Squirrels counting on you now for all air support."

"Will get it. Have fun chicksitting minnow rat!"

Klystra gritted his beak. "Yah. Much fun."

The gull lifted into the sky once more to convey the falcon's message to the other seagulls, leaving Klystra and Latura to themselves. The ratmaid, having finished her unappealing hardtack during the two birds' conversation, gazed up at the winged creature still pinning her to the ground.

"Hey, feathers, what's for dessert?"

00000000000

"Sure wish Cap'n Choock was 'ere now," Sergeant Turkko muttered to himself as he stood tensed against the charging Mossflower beasts drawing near. "An' a fewscore more o' my fellow Northland shrews."

The line of defenders extended across the path the Guosim and Long Patrol and solitary badger would need to take in their pursuit of Matowick's squad. But that line was stretched thin, well past any hope of containing a breach in their formation. If the would-be rescuers hit the Northlanders in a solid wedge anywhere along that tenuous flank, all Turkko could hope to do was close around it from either end, rally as best he could and hope that would be enough to make their most inconvenient adversary think twice about pressing any offensive.

Actually, what Turkko had hoped was that this modest show of force by his shrews might forestall any engagement at all. However, staring now down the snouts of the forward-rushing opponents, and seeing the fire in their eyes, he knew they hardly meant to turn around and return to Redwall empty-pawed. This was going to get ugly.

"Hold fast!" he shouted to the shrews on either side of him. "Hold th' line, but be prepared t' move fast if ya gotta! Don't let any of 'em get through! Those hares're leadin' the charge, so be ready for 'em first! Aim fer their legs, try'n lame 'em - that'll take 'em outta this fight!"

No sooner had this enjoinder passed his lips than the vanguard of Long Patrol suddenly split, three racing to the north and three galloping to the south, clearly meaning to bypass Turkko's line altogether and press on into the Plains without engaging the Northlanders at all.

Lord Sodexo and the Guosim, however, made no such move, pounding straight ahead on a course to hit the Northlander line in its midst.

A couple of shrews near either end of the defensive line seemed about to break from the formation to go after the speedy hares, but a barked reprimand from Turkko kept them in place. "Hold th' line! Don't give chase - we'd never catch 'em if they don't wanna be caught! But keep yer eyes over yer shoulders, case they circle back 'round an' try'n hit us from behind!"

Only a fewscore paces now separated Sodexo from the Northlander line, with the Badger Lord and supporting Guosim showing no sign of pulling their punches. Twirling his staff like a windmilling avenger, Sodexo opened his mouth and roared forth the battle cry of his race since time immemorial.

"EUUULAAALIIIAAA!"

Sergeant Peppertail and his fellow Long Patrol, not yet even fully past the obstructing cordon of enemy shrews, froze in place, something elemental and primordial awakened within them at the sound of this war cry. Abandoning all thought of going on without the badger of their company, they stood stock still, waiting to see what the Lord of the Southern Glades would bring to this fight.

They didn't have long to wait. Sodexo hit the line of tensed shrews like a one-beast avalanche - or, more precisely, his staff did, reaching out to the Northlanders before him and connecting with a deft force they stood helpless to counter. The blunt weapon found one target after another, parrying blades and whacking heads and sweeping legs out from under their owners and even lifting shrews clear off the ground to send them flying. The usual shrew tactic of ganging up on a larger adversary and assailing it en masse proved equally ineffective; even as the defenders from either end of the line drew in to converge on Sodexo in a frenzied mob of slashing and stabbing, the Badger Lord proved more than equal to this challenge, twirling and pivoting to meet attackers from both directions at once, bludgeoning, stunning and scattering Turkko's forces without a single blade finding his flesh.

Log-a-Log and his Guosim, awaiting their own opening to rush in and support their badger ally, ended up standing back and simply watching in awe as Sodexo demolished the Northlander ranks single-pawed. The hares too stood looking on in amazement, although for them, the spectacle of a Badger Lord in full fighting fury resonated in a way it never could for anybeast else.

Two of the airborne shrews landed near the hares Pumphrey and Buckalew. Seeing the breath driven out of the smaller beasts and their blades knocked out of their grasps, the two Long Patrol sprinted forward to relieve the stunned Northlanders of their arms.

It took mere moments for other hares and the Guosim to follow this example, realizing that many of Turrko's shrews were being rendered senseless, battered down and separated from their weapons. Sweeping forward, they confiscated rapiers and shortswords from any casualty unlikely to resist. In short order, well over half Turkko's force lay disarmed, with even their slings stripped from them.

The Northland sergeant himself sat dazed where he'd fallen, scarcely able to absorb the magnitude of Sodexo's display. He found Log-a-Log's swordtip pointed at his throat. "Yer blade 'n' sling, friend, if'n ye'd be so obligin'."

Turkko made no protest as another of the Guosim ably disarmed him. Staring up and down and all about his shattered line, and then at Sodexo calmly shouldering his staff now that his work was done, the shrew shook his head. "If'n I didn't know you was a true Badger Lord afore, I'd sure know it now - an' if this's what you c'n do when ye're fully in control o' yerself, I'd hate t' see you in th' grip o' th' Bloodwrath. Daresay you'd be a match fer Lord Urthblood 'imself - at least now that he's only got one paw. So, what 'appens now?"

"You know why we're here," the badger said, "and why we couldn't let you stop us."

"They got some rope on 'em," Log-a-Log observed. "Should we tie 'em up?"

"I don't think that will be necessary. Bring me their blades."

Turkko and some of the other Northlanders blanched and quailed at the sinister implications of this statement, but they quickly saw they need not have feared for their safety. Striding several paces back in the direction of Redwall, Sodexo took all the confiscated blades and hurled them, one after the other, out into the Plains, his massive badger's strength launching them far from their subdued adversary and scattering them widely across the landscape, where the weapons would not be speedily or easily recovered. Turning to Turkko after the last sword had flown from his paw, he said, "There are your blades to retrieve if you want them. I would warn you against pursuing, now that you see how ineffective they are against us. Your slings we will keep for ourselves; we've no desire to find a hail of slingstones unleashed at our backs. Fare you well, and may you enjoy good health far from us."

Realizing the futility of further engagement after being so decisively bested, the Northlanders made no move as the rescue party took off again. Mostly they were content to sit on the grasslands nursing their many bruises and recovering their wits. Turkko chewed on his gorge as he glared after the departing company, knowing the same bitter taste of defeat he'd experienced during the catastrophe of Doublegate, and not caring for it any more the second time at the paws of far more respectable beasts than Snoga and the searats.

Slowing his hare-ish stride to fall into step alongside Sodexo, Peppertail said, "That was quite some show you put on back there, Lord - an' quite some battle cry, too. Sent a shiver right down the bally spines of me 'n' all my chaps, don'tcha know. We've not heard its like since we last served under Lord Urthfist. Brought back a lot of memories, an' a certain nostalgia too. Almost forgot wot it's like servin' with a Badger Lord. When all the dust settles over this current bruhaha an' we're back at the Abbey, don't suppose you'd consider stayin' at Redwall as one of its defenders, wouldja? You'd find twoscore able fightin' hares willing to serve at your pleasure."

"I am a beekeeper and a honey trader, not a warrior. My place is with my family in the Southern Glades. I march with you now only because of a transgression against my honorable hosts by creatures who show considerably less honor. When this is done, my only desire is to return to a life of peace if I may."

"Even if Urthblood turns around an' starts a war with Redwall over wot we're doin' here?"

"I will answer the call to war if I am left no other choice. Otherwise, this excursion must stand as a one-time event for me, to redress a wrong I happened to be on paw to witness myself."

"Ah." The Long Patrol sergeant seemed at a loss as to what to say to this rebuff. "Well then, know that we'll hold tight right alongside you for as long as may be, right up to gettin' Lattie back to Redwall safe 'n' sound, an' for any lingerin' nastiness that may result. Just hope ol' Bloodface doesn't take it too badly, an' make things even harder for those of us at the Abbey."

"Then I will tarry at Redwall for more of this season, to make sure my staff is not needed further. But you speak of this rat's rescue as a foregone conclusion. Do you really believe it will be so easy"

"After how we - er, you - just dispatched those pugnacious pointysnouts? With you leadin' the bally charge, M'Lord, how can a mere six bushtails hope t' have any chance against us?"

Behind them, the very same gull who'd earlier conferred with Klystra dropped out of the sky among the smarting Northland shrews, regarding their downed and scattered numbers with a mix of scorn and amusement. "Wha' 'appened here? Let bunnydogs, stripedog, colorheadshrews get past."

"Well, where were _you_?!" Turkko demanded in accusation. "We coulda used you featherwarriors down 'ere!"

"Busy doing other things."

"Other things?! What other things? We were the only line o' defense 'tween Cap'n Matowick's party an' those Redwallers! Stoppin' them was our top priority!"

"Shoulda fought harder then. Why not use slings? Coulda taken some down before stripehound took _you_ down."

"I ... " Turkko thought hard on this question, now that he'd been confronted with it. Why _hadn't_ he ordered his shrews to deploy slings as well as swords? It might indeed have thinned out the Guosim ranks, and maybe even put one or two of the Long Patrol out of action as well. But slung stones could not be loosed with the same finesse as a wielded blade, and a volley meant to cripple could just as easily kill. "They're fellow woodlanders, not vermin. Wasn't gonna risk lethal force 'gainst 'em if'n I could help it. Ye're a seabird, you wouldn't unnerstand. Lemme talk t' Cap'n Klystra - he'll 'preciate my position."

"Klystra busy, leave more to us gulls, make us busy too, crawwk!"

"Hrm. Not much else t' say, is there then? Best you let Cap'n Matowick know we failed t' stop that Redwall crew, so he c'n either step it up t' stay ahead or else get ready to meet 'em. Wish 'im better luck with those battlers than we had!"

"Would not be hard." With this final belittlement loosed from his bill, the gull took to the wing once more, aimed west to pass over the triumphant Mossflower company on his way to warn the Gawtrybe of this minor setback to Lord Urthblood's plans.

Rising and groaning, Turkko stumbled forward to retrieve his badger-flung blade from where it had landed. "Shift yerselves, shrews, an' take up yer swords agin. We may not've stopped 'em on their way out to retrieve that rat lass, but if they do succeed in rescuin' her, they'll be comin' back this same way to return her to the Abbey ... an' then we'll get one last crack at doin' what we shoulda done th' first time 'round!"


	10. Chapter 82

**CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO**

"Looks like they're putting on a burst of speed," Alex observed, straining the limits of his keen squirrel vision to study the distant knot of Gawtrybe far ahead. "Whatever that bird had to say to them earlier, it seems to've put some urgency into their step. I'd hoped we'd be able to overtake them before dark, but now that's not looking likely."

"Yah," Clewiston agreed, paw to brow, "an' that sun's droppin' low too, shinin' right in our literally blinkin' peepers. They might try'n use that opportunity to lay a false trail an' go to ground somewhere t' throw us off track, or else change direction without us catchin' on."

"I doubt they'd go to ground, since I imagine they're in a hurry to get Latura to Salamandaston. And they can't change their course_ too_ much, if their goal is the hidden pass through the high mountains. Even if we lost track of them altogether, we could just press on toward the mountains ourselves and seek the pass on our own."

"Unless His Bloodiness has found a second secret pass over or through that range that we don't know about. Wouldn't put it past that devious devil." The Colonel puffed and exhaled, raising his paw to indicate his need for another rest. "Jolly well regardless of whether they're pullin' out ahead of us or not, fact is we'll still not be able to engage 'em as a twosome. But I can think of one thing that'd light a fire under their bushtails, an' which would be the best bally news for us I can think of." Turning about to search behind them, Clewiston sighted along their path travelled. "An' whaddya know? Here they come, right on ... no, that's not right. Not right at all, wot?"

Alexander joined him in scanning the Plains behind them. "I see them too. But, what has you sounding so fretful?"

"There's one figure 'mongst that lot standin' out above all the others. I knew to expect a half-dozen hares, based on my orders to Mel an' Traveller, but it looks like we've got a lot more than that, with one big bruiser stridin' right in their midst. I wonder ... "

"Do you suppose it's Kurdyla? He'd stand head and shoulders above even the tallest hare of the Patrols." Alex scrutinized the still-distant but approaching group. "Hmm - Kurdy might stand that tall, but not half so wide. That looks almost like ... "

"Only one species boasting that much height _and_ breadth. Looks like we've got a bally badger joinin' up for this rescue."

"Yes, but who? Maura would never leave the Abbey's youngsters and babes alone at such a time as this."

"Then I'd say that narrows it down to a field of one, chap. An' the fact we're seein' him t'all shows he's in this fight for real, since it means our reinforcements have gotten past that shrew line behind us. Be very curious to hear how _that_ scrape went."

"Unless ... " Alex studied the approaching company some more. "Be nice if we had one of Urthblood's long glasses, but I'm pretty sure there are a lot of much shorter creatures marching along with those hares and badger. You don't suppose they worked something out, do you? Negotiated some kind of truce, and now your Long Patrol and Urthblood's shrews are on their way to let us know?"

"Stranger things've happened, I s'pose. It'd be convenient if our Sparra friends hadn't so completely abandoned us, wot? Then they could've kept these line of communication open, an' spared us these guessin' games. Didn't honestly think they'd bail on us like that, but just goes t' show you never can tell."

"I'm sure they debated long and hard whether to obey Vanessa's recall order. They may be debating it still, for all we know. If they show, they show, and if they don't, it looks like we'll still have muscle enough to force Matowick to relinquish Latura, if it comes to that."

"Hmm. Guess there's no point pressin' on 'til we find out wot's wot, wot? Don't wanna go chasin' after those in front of us if those behind us have already hashed matters out on their own." Clewiston cast about, surveying the scant spring vegetation offered by the wide Plains. "Whoever they are, hope they've brought along some tuck they're willin' to share. Rotter of a thing about rushing out of the Abbey like we did, is there was no time to properly fortify an' provision ourselves for an expedition that could last days, an' foragin's mighty sparse hereabouts, by the look of it."

"I think water's more an issue than food. I'm growing quite parched myself. I know the Western Plains are full of springs, pools and brooks, if you just know where to look, but unfortunately our path hasn't taken us near any of them. We'll have to do something about that, and soon, if we want to continue this pursuit."

While Clewiston settled down on his haunches and gnawed at some new grass and dandelion sprigs, Alex jogged a few dozen paces away to crest a small hillock, to gain a better view of the approaching party. After staring at them for some time, he called out to the Colonel, "Well, looks like I was off the mark with my speculation earlier."

"Oh? Do tell."

"I was right about these being shrews coming our way, but not about their identity. Urthblood's shrews don't sport brightly colored headbands. These are Guosim joining us."

"Ho ho! Good show! Should've known old Log-a-Thing wouldn't care to be left out of this rigamarole! Wonder if that very shrewscamp's leadin' th' bally charge? Not that it matters much; with or without him, his scrappers will be mighty welcome."

"On the other paw, it means they got past the Northland shrews one way or the other. We can only hope it didn't get too ugly; that would hardly help matters between Urthblood and Redwall any, such a large party coming out from the Abbey to join the chase, and inflicting casualties among his forces."

"Oh, I dunno, Alex chappie. Think it over: You got hares of th' Long Patrol, who'll be actin' independently of Redwall or your Abbess's stated wishes; shrews of the Guosim, who aren't really Redwallers either; an' a Badger Lord who hails from an entirely diff'rent region of Mossflower. None of 'em can be tied directly back to Redwall, if they disavow such connections an' insist the Abbey's leadership played no part in plannin' this jolly escapade."

"Which leaves me as the odd beast out," Alex solemnly noted. "I _am_ one of the Abbey's chief defenders, and unlike you hares, the Mossflower Patrol has always been based out of Redwall. There's no credible way I can claim such autonomy, or divorce myself from my home in this matter. I hope it doesn't complicate the situation too much, or come back to bite us in any way - whether we succeed in freeing Latura or not."

"Stop worryin' your red fur gray, ol' sport. You're not exactly obeyin' your Abbess's orders in this, are you? I'd say that gives you cover to spare, wot?"

"Maybe. But then, if you're right and Urthblood really is looking for any excuse to go to war with Redwall ... " Alex shook his head in frustration. "It's just so hard to know what to do, not knowing what _he's_ going to do. Or what he has in mind, or what his long-term plans are."

"Hah. Welcome to my bloomin' world, Alex chum. Tryin' t' get in that badger's head's a game that'll keep you up nights if you let it. So, think we should tarry here 'til our smidgen of an army arrives, or keep on with our slowpoke's pursuit?"

Alex lifted his arms and waved toward the nearing party. Almost immediately, the badger and several of the hares and shrews answered with similar gestures of their own. "Well, they've seen us, so they'll know we're up here ahead of them, whether we're still in this spot when they get here or not." He turned to gaze west. "And Matowick's gang isn't going to stand still and wait for us to unite our forces. I say we head off again, at a pace to let our companions catch up with us in good time, without having all of us fall too far behind."

"Sounds like a bally plan." Clewiston popped up onto his footpaws again, his brief rest having rejuvenated him almost as much as the promise of a bolstered company of comrades. "Lead on, my good bushtail, lead on!"

00000000000

"Sir, he's slowing us up too much."

Brisson's expression of concern prompted Matowick to glance back at Palter. The male rat, paws bound behind him and looking ridiculous in Latura's flouncy peach dress, stumbled along with flagging steps, clearly pushed to the edge of utter exhaustion and verging on collapse at any moment. Fear shone in his eyes - fear that this torture might continue, and an equally strong fear that this expedition's grim leader might agree with his underling this time, and end Palter's participation in these events once and for all with one flash of a knife blade - Latura's prophecy notwithstanding.

His second, more primal fear was allayed by Matowick's weary reply. "He's not outlived his usefulness yet." This hardly cheered Palter, who knew the alternative to a quick release and deliverance from life's hardships was this continued punishing pace that threatened to run him into the ground - perhaps literally.

"All due respect, sir," Nixalis picked up from Brisson, "but now that the sun's gone behind the mountains, they'll have a much better view of us - and with a long stretch of daylight still left. We won't be able to pull off this masquerade much longer."

"We've still got time, Nix. They're not that close yet. Right now all they'll be able to see is the dress, not the rat wearing it - which is exactly what we want."

"Even so, their main force got past our shrews who were supposed to stop them, or at least slow them down. And they did it without taking a single life, if that last gull messenger was to be believed - which gives them the moral high ground, and will make it harder for us to justify using lethal force against them when they do catch up to us. Which they will, and long before we reach the mountains." Nixalis glared at Palter. "At least at this speed."

"The important thing is that the one rat we came all this way to get is ahead of both us and our pursuers - and as long as we've got Captain Klystra and Commodor Altidor at our beck and call, it will remain so. Even if the Redwallers succeed in overtaking _us_, they'll never catch up to _her_."

"Those birds won't be able to get her over the mountains and to Salamandastron on their own," said Brisson.

"Actually, if things unravel any more than they already have, it might very well be up to them to do just that." Matowick regarded their captive for long moments, then sighed. "All right. It's time to wring the last that we can out of this ploy. We'll wait just a bit longer, to make sure they can see us clearly. When we make our move, I want it to look like we're panicked and acting out of desperation. Briss, Delk, you're to break off to the south, and take our prisoner here with you. Make sure to march on either side of him, so that it's clear from the tracks that you've got a rat with you. The rest of us will press on ahead until we rendezvous with Klystra, and continue on as planned - or until we're forced to change plans again."

Nixalis wasn't the only squirrel there to greet this announced strategy with a furrowed brow. "Split our forces, sir? But we've barely any hope of standing against their numbers as it is ... "

"They're not looking for a fight, and neither am I - at least not yet. They want Latura, not us, and they'll go after whichever of us they believe has her. So I want to draw them as far off our trail as I can, make them waste that precious time while the rest of us forge ahead to increase our lead - a lead we'll hopefully be able to hold all the way to the mountains. After that, it will be up to our winged comrades to hold them off. In the meantime, it won't matter if they overtake Briss and Delk and discover we've tricked them; what will they be able to do about it then?"

"Easy for you to say," Delk mildly groused. "You won't be there with a peeved Badger Lord, and equally peeved Long Patrol and shrew fighters, when they learn the truth of our little ruse."

"Then don't wait for them to catch you. When you see them pulling near, ditch the rat and go on without him. Circle back to rejoin us if you can, or make your way to the coast in your own time, but by then, hopefully we'll be beyond their reach - us and Latura both."

"Hmm - I'm starting to think having Klystra and Altidor get our target back to Salamandastron on their own might not be such a bad idea after all, if they're up for it," Brisson grumbled.

A short time later, Matowick gave the word, and Brisson and Delk separated from the group, bearing Palter between them to the south while the other four Gawtrybe angled slightly to the north - all of this done with an exaggerated air of alarm sure to be noticed by their pursuers, even at the distance still dividing the two companies.

"Do you really think this is going to work?" Nixalis asked his captain as their quartet bustled further into the Western Plains, their pace faster now that the bound rat no longer encumbered them.

"They'll go after whoever they think has Latura - they have to. So why wouldn't it work?"

00000000000

"It's their own damned fault."

Harth, standing on the east walltop in the last of the late afternoon sun as he oversaw the burial of the four slain rats at the forest's edge, glanced aside at Truax with a scowl. "Stupid or not, they were _my_ rats. An' I hate seein' even a single one of 'em bein' put in th' ground."

The former Northlands captain snorted and gave a dismissive shrug. "A good commander knows when t' stand by his soldiers, an' when t' step back. What those rats did - barricadin' themselves inside the Infirmary, takin' Lady Mina hostage, threat'nin' harm to both her an' the Abbess - coulda got you an' all yer rats thrown outta Redwall ... an' mebbe me 'n' my family along with you. Dunno how the Abbess was able t' put 'em all down like that, if that's even what happened, but I'm glad she did. Saved us all a world o' grief."

"Mebbe they _were_ fools," Harth conceded. "But it coulda been our best shot at gettin' Lattie back, so I'll not fault 'em fer tryin', even if their strategy may've been a bit ... misguided."

"You don't know that, Gen'ral. 'Bout that bein' our best chance at gettin' Lattie back. We got seven hares, a score o' shrews an' a Badger Lord chasin' out after those thieves. Could be they'll succeed ... altho ... "

"Altho what?"

"Well, havin' served under Urthblood fer so many seasons, I've seen fer myself that if he wants sumpthin' bad 'nuff, he goes all out t' get it. An' right now, seems he wants Lattie pretty bad. Not sayin' our rescue's doomed t' failure - fur knows, if anybeasts can get it done, it'll be that lot who's chasin' after her now - but I think it's safe t' say Urthblood ain't gonna make it easy."

"Hrm. You know the Abbess never even clued 'em inta that? That's what she told me after she came outta the Infirmary: She never mentioned to my four rats up there that th' Long Patrol an' them shrews an' badger've gone out on their own t' try'n get Lattie back. 'Never came up,' she said. Just a minor little detail that mighta made 'em reconsider their folly, mebbe even give up that squirrel princess an' walk outta that mess with their lives. 'Never came up' ... "

"Careful with that bitterness there - some of it's liable t' drip off on me."

Slightly farther along the walltop, Geoff and Winokur also stood looking down at the solemn burial detail, an octet of otters who'd been spared from sentry duty to tend to the slain rats. Not long before, a patrol of Gawtrybe had stopped by to investigate this activity but, examining the corpses and finding them dead to their satisfaction, they'd moved on to see if they could find other rats to molest who had a little more life in them.

"At least the hornet swarm's subsided," Geoff commented. "That's one complication we don't have to deal with anymore, on top of everything else. I still can't believe all that's happened ... and this incident in the Infirmary was the last thing we needed. How did those rats even know the way up there to begin with? They didn't waste any time in moving to seize Lady Mina once they learned Latura was gone."

"Sartor was Areti's husband," said Winokur, equally somber.

"Who?"

"The ratwife who gave birth day before yesterday. Sartor had been up to see her and their babe a few times. He knew the way, and must have led the others." The otter Recorder stared down at the graves. "We all thought he was showing such admirable paternal concern, but it might have been better for him if he'd never visited them at all."

"Hmm. Well, I can't be expected to memorize the names of everybeast who's sought sanctuary with us this season, with all that's been going on. At least the babe will still have his mother, and that's the important thing. I just can't fathom what's happening with Vanessa. She's gone from being an irresponsible, troublemaking, insolent nuisance to a commanding, ruthless hardnose in the blink of an eye, expecting all of us to kowtow to her every edict. The Nessa I've known since we were young mice together would bristle at the mere thought of taking a life, and yet today ... " Geoff shuddered. "It's uncanny ... and makes me seriously question whether she really is fit to serve as Abbess again."

"She would say the paw of Martin is evident in these events."

Geoff shot Winokur a searching glance. "Do you think it is?"

The otter gave a perplexed shrug. "It's as good an answer to these mysteries as anything. There's still so much about all this that I can't fully understand or explain. Like why an Abbess who's dedicated her life to easing the suffering of others would so cold-heartedly send away an innocent soul who sought sanctuary with us, likely condemning her to horrors we can scarcely imagine."

"At least she had a good reason for surrendering Latura. If it saves us from an armed conflict with Lord Urthblood, I cannot fully disagree with her reasoning, as much as I might have urged her to try to find another way out of that particular dilemma. And after all, she did rather present that to the rest of us as an accomplished deed after the fact, didn't she? The rescue party of Long Patrol and Guosim probably amounts to the most we would have been able to do anyway, even had Vanessa not decreed we were to let Matowick have Latura. No, I'm far more troubled by what happened in the Infirmary. It's one thing to make a decision, no matter how harsh, about Abbey affairs, but quite another to take lives with one's own paw. That disturbs me, and disturbs me greatly."

"You and me both, Abbot," Winokur agreed, looking down at the gravedigger otters tamping firm the earth atop the four forlorn burial mounds. "You and me both."

As the sun dipped below the main Abbey building, casting the east walltop in a shadowed gloom fitting the occasion, the mellow boom and bong of the Matthias and Methuselah bells sounded, calling everybeast to an early evening meal. It was the standard dinnertime tolling; at Vanessa's orders, there was to be no special toll to commemorate the slain rats or their interment, due to the manner in which they'd violated the sanctuary extended them by Redwall. And if anybeast was to gainsay the Abbess in this decision, it certainly wasn't going to be Cyril and Cyrus, and so the bells rang in accordance with her wishes.

"At least Friar Hugh has kept to his kitchen schedule through all of today's upheaval," Geoff remarked. "And while the day's events do weigh on me, I've not had anything to eat since breakfast, as I'm sure must be the case for many of us. A simple dinner will hit the spot right now, even if my appetite might not be at its keenest."

Back by the rats, Grota had joined Harth and Truax at the battlements. "Willya lissen t' that, sir? Four of our own dead 'n' buried, slain by th' Abbess's own paw too, an' now they're gonna go back to their feastin' an' merrymakin' like naught ever 'appened. T'ain't right, I'm tellin' ya!"

"Doubt there'll be much merrymakin' by these folks this night, Grote. Most of 'em're as put out by Lattie's abduction as we are, an' some of 'em even disobeyed their Abbess's direct orders to try'n get 'er back. But ye're right - it does grate, an' sticks in my craw too."

"This was s'posed t' be our sanctuary, our proteckshun. We was s'posed t' be safe in 'ere. How safe was Lattie?" Grota nodded down toward the quartet of fresh graves. "How safe were any o' them?"

Harth looked unflinchingly at his lieutenant. "Mebbe so - but woudja rather try yer luck outside these walls, on yer own? Our situation might not be all we'd prefer, Grote, but it's still th' best option we got."

"What if she's mad, sir? I mean, we've known since we got here that mouse t'weren't right in th' head, but what if she's turned out 'n' out murd'rous? What if she takes t' butcherin' us all?"

"There's a lot more o' us than there is o' her. I'd like t' see her try."

"We got no arms, sir. An' she got all these Abbeybeasts at her beck 'n' call. What if she orders 'em t' turn 'gainst us?"

"Then we'd still be no worse off than if we'd never made it t' Redwall in th' first place. At th' moment, most of us're still doin' a damn sight better'n Lattie is, an' as long as we watch our step 'round here, mebbe we'll avoid endin' up in th' same boat she is." Harth regarded the scene below for long, silent moments, working his jaw wordlessly. Then he turned from the battlements. "Still, I gotta know exactly what went on up in that sickbay. An' I'm gonna go find out!"

Winokur, taking note of the abruptness and manner of the rat general's departure, said to Geoff, "Not sure I like the looks of that. I doubt he'd try to cause any more trouble after what happened in the Infirmary, but I think I'd better tag along to make sure." Satisfied that the Abbot had enough squirrels and shrews up on the walltop with him to ensure his safety, Winokur took his leave and started after Harth.

"Be careful, Wink," Geoff called after him.

At the bottom of the wallsteps, the otter caught up to Harth - mainly because the latter had been accosted by Patreese and Castor. Momentarily disregarding the two village rats, Harth scowled back at the otter. "Followin' me, 'Greenpup?'"

"Let's just say I'm curious as to what had you leaving in such a hurry, and thought you might appreciate the company." Turning to the father and son, Winokur said, "I'm afraid there's not likely to be any word on Latura until tomorrow, at the earliest. The Gawtrybe just had too big a head start."

"That's not what we was gonna askcher 'bout," Castor responded, "tho' the thought's much 'preciated. Naw, t'were one of our other own we were puzzlin' over. Has anybeast seen Palter about?"

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Harth paused at the Infirmary doorway and looked to Winokur, whom he'd been unable to shake since the wallstairs. "Y' know, she might not be willin' to speak so freely with you listenin' in."

The otter Recorder was hardly put off by Harth's gruff attitude. "Has it occurred to you she might not be willing to speak freely with _you_ around?"

"Pah! I know my own kind! I'm her former General, after all."

"Exactly my point ... General."

Harth scowled as the full implications of Winokur's barbed rejoinder sank in, then led the way into the sickbay with the Redwaller at his heels.

The door still hung half off its hinges, but the beds had all been put back in their proper places and re-made with crisp sheets, smartly-turned blankets and plumped pillows. The floor was swabbed clean of any blood stains, and the pilfered surgical instruments had all been returned to their cabinets and drawers. Mina slept soundly in her bed, her stitches thoroughly checked by Arlyn and Metellus, who'd then given her a sedative so she could rest more fully after her latest tribulations. The Gawtrybe Lady's soft snores were the only sound in the chamber.

Harth and Winokur turned their pawsteps toward the bed much closer to the door, the one tucked back into the nearer corner where the ratmum - and now widow - Areti lay nursing her newborn. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of Harth entering the Infirmary and approaching her, but she seemed calmed by Winokur's presence as well. Harth helped himself to a seat on the adjacent bed, where he could slump forward conspiratorially while they conferred; Winokur remained standing at the foot of the bed, arms casually crossed over his green habit robes.

"Retti," Harth began, voice cool yet urgent, "I gotta know what you saw up here. How'd the Abbess put down four o' my trained fighters? Is that what really happened, or did she have help?" He inclined his head ever so slightly toward the slumbering squirrel.

Areti's eyes went to Winokur. "Is it a'right t' speak with 'im liss'nin' in?"

Harth shot Wink an I-told-you-so glance, then nodded. "It's fine. 'ee's Lattie's Greenpup, 'member?"

"I'm as curious as anybeast to know what went on here. Our Abbess certainly isn't very forthcoming about the matter."

Areti considered this, the satisfied suck-suck of her babe at her breast mingling with Mina's snores from across the room, then she nodded and turned back to Harth. "T'weren't like aught I e'er see'd afore, sir. She baited an' goaded 'em right from th' start, like there was four o' her an' only one of 'em, 'stead o' the other way 'round. An' there might as well've been, when it came time t' spill blood. She dodged right around th' one who was holdin' th' sword on 'er, ducked past th' blade an' tore it from 'is grasp like he was my own babe! Before any of 'em could rally - before they even knew what was happ'nin' - she'd cut 'em all down, easy as y' please. Only took one stroke each - such skill I ne'er see'd in any bladebeast in my life. Even Tazerra, who tried t' use th' squirrel queen t' shield 'imself behind, might as well've been a terrified whelp struck still with fright."

Harth's eyebrows stood most high. "You make it sound like she'd be a match even fer me."

"All respect, sir, you'd not've stood a chance 'gainst 'er. She'da cut you down easy as she did them, an' naught you'da been able t' do about it neither."

Harth sat stunned to silence, astounded that any rat under him would dare so openly and boldly disparage his own fighting skills in contrast to those of a female Abbeymouse. At length he looked to Winokur. "That's some mean paw yer Abbess's got there. Did she train long in her youth?"

"Not a single day, as far as I know. Down in Great Hall you'll see an old sandal hanging on the wall where we also display Martin's sword and shield. That's the sandal Vanessa used in her novice days to fight the wicked Sparra King of old. My understanding is that's the only weapon she's ever wielded. She has no battle training; she's a mouse of the Redwall order, and a former healer, dedicated to peace and aiding others."

"Then ... how ... "

"I don't know," Wink admitted. "All I can speculate is that she's been in a bizarre state these past three seasons, and that sometime during that period something must have come to her ... almost as if in a dream ... "

Harth snorted. "If that's th' case, wouldn't mind havin' some dreams like that m'self."

"Would you really want to get struck in the head by a near-fatal blow and reduced to an imbecilic state for three seasons just to improve your sword skills a bit?"

"Hrm. When you put it like that ... Imbeciles don't fare well in hordes, so I doubt I'd've lasted one season, much less three." He turned back to Areti. "An' th' squirrel didn't help her at all?"

"Nay, she'd been knocked out cold by Tazerra right 'fore the fight started. Matter o' fact, that seemed t' be what set the Abbess off. But she was groggy 'n' pained 'n' moanin' the entire time, doubled over on her bed clutchin' her belly with her eyes screwed shut. She didn't even see any of it happen."

"Hmm. So ye're the only witness ... "

Areti nodded. "An' I was terrified fer my life. Thought mebbe she'd come after me next, leave not a soul t' tell. Could be my babe's all that stayed 'er paw, an' kept me alive."

"Vanessa would never slay an unarmed, nursing mother," Winokur protested. "She'd only have harmed you if you'd tried to harm her, or somebeast else, first."

Areti leveled an accusing stare at the otter. "How c'n you even say that, after just confessin' she ain't actin' like she's ever acted afore, that she's showin' fighter's ways she never coulda picked up in 'er mortal life? She was a berserker, not any peace-abidin' Abbeymouse. She mighta been capable o' anything!"

Harth shook his head. "Nay. Not a berserker. Too much discipline, too much skill 'n' finesse, t' do what she did. That's the opposite of a berserker. Not sure what I'd call it, though. A warrior, fer sure, but beyond that ... "

"A warrior ... " Winokur murmured, his gaze suddenly far away.

"This means sumpthin' to you?" Harth asked him.

"Only in the realms of legend, and ancient Redwall history. Areti, I'm very sorry about your husband, Sartor. "I know it must be - "

"Sorry?" she cut him off. "Well, I ain't. That rat was a brute, an' foul-tempered, an' showed me 'is mean 'n' vicious side only after 'ee wooed me an' trapped me inta bein' his wife. Now I don't hafta be afraid o' him no more." Areti's gaze went to Harth. "Don't hafta be afraid o' you no more neither. This's Redwall, where we're all equal, an' nobeast gets t' be boss over others. Ain't so tough now, are ya? All yer weapons stripped away an' cowerin' behind these stone walls, hidin' from those brushtails who'd haul us all away t' slavery in chains. Well, t'day I saw a mouse who could best you any season you care t' name, an' I'm bettin' she ain't the only Abbeybeast who could! The old days an' old ways - th' horde ways - 're over, an' they ain't never comin' back fer me! I'm at Redwall now, an' this is where me an' my babe'll be stayin', t' live as respectable beasts an' never be part o' thievin' 'n' fightin' 'n' killin' ever again!"

Harth visibly bristled at being told off in such a manner. "Watch yer tongue there, wench!"

"Or ye'll do what? Cut it out? Then I'll stand on th' walltop laughin' as them squirrels drag you off to th' searats, 'cos there's no way these good folk would let you remain amongst 'em after doin' sumpthin' so barbaric. So call me wench all y' want, but it'll roll off me like water off a riverdog's back! 'Cos I'm better'n that now, an' I know it!"

"Just don't go fergettin' who it was who got you here. May've been Lattie's vision, but without me you'd all still be stuck back in that valley, waitin' to be rounded up an' marched off in bonds, if y' hadn't been already. An' if you think Bryn 'n' Negril 'n' Snosso coulda saved you, or even I coulda saved you, knowin' what we know now 'bout these Gawtrybe an' their badger master, you ain't even got th' smarts to be raisin' that whelp o' yers there."

"Er-HRM!" Winokur loudly cleared his throat, bringing the verbally-sparring rats to silence. "I, uh, would say we've gotten what we came here for, General. And perhaps a good bit more besides. Nothing to be gained by upsetting this new mother further, or risking waking Lady Mina, who needs her rest. Let us be gone, shall we?"

Harth gave Areti one last long, lingering, baleful look - which the ratmum returned unflinchingly, measure for measure - before joining Winokur on the way out of the Infirmary. As they passed into the hall between the knot of Abbeybeasts stationed there to prevent another siege or any further action against Mina, the otter Recorder gently teased, "Guess that didn't go exactly as you'd planned, did it?"

"Th' story of my season so far," Harth grumbled in return.


	11. Chapter 83

**CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE**

"Something's not right here."

Clewiston, Sodexo and Log-a-Log, the other leaders of their now-united rescue expedition, looked to Alexander as he voiced these concerns. "Yah, I'm rather feelin' it m'self," the Long Patrol commander agreed, "but all the bloomin' signs say we're on the right track, so wot else can we do?"

"I know, but it still doesn't make sense. We know they have to be making for the pass over the mountains, because it would simply be too far to go around them. So why are they taking Latura off to the south, away from where they must go? And why did they split their forces, assigning only two Gawtrybe to escort her while the majority turned slightly to the north? None of it adds up."

"Dunno what y' want us t' do about it," Log-a-Log replied. "We were close 'nuff t' see 'em when they went their separate ways, an' we saw 'em bearin' Lattie off to th' south with our own eyes."

"Too true," Sergeant Peppertail affirmed. "An' wot's more, the tracks we're followin' now show two squirrels an' a rat, clear as day." He looked to the sky and the deepening dusk all around them. "Or as clear as day can be at day's end, don'tcha know."

"This spring twilight's not going to last long enuff for wot we need," said Clewiston. "I'd hoped we'd overtake those rotters before nightfall, but they seem to've doubled their pace ever since just the two of 'em took charge of Lattie. Could be they're runnin' blind outta panic, which might explain why nothing they're doing's makin' any sense. Makes as much sense as anything, I s'pose. Although, it could be I was on th' bally mark earlier when I speculated whether Urthblood might've found a second way through the mountains. Mebbe that's wot they're makin' for now, an' they timed it all along to reach it under cover of dark to give us the slip."

"Or it could be some kind of trap," Sodexo rumbled in rumination. "From what I've heard of this badger, he may have planned for exactly that."

"Normally, I'd be worried about the other four Gawtrybe circling back around for some kind of ambush," said Alex, "but at least we know that's not any kind of real threat now."

Log-a-Log gave a gruff chuckle. "Think they've found out yet?"

"Could be." Clewiston pursed his lips. "Might help explain why they're actin' the way they are now, wot? An' if not, then they're in for a jolly rude awakenin' up ahead, aren't they?"

A sudden high-pitched skreeing and chittering from the dimming sky overhead interrupted their conversation as dozens of streaking forms appeared as darting, twilit silhouettes against the silvery heavens.

"RedwallRedwallRedwall!"

"Well, whaddya know!" Log-a-Log exulted. "Those feathery scrappers from Warbeak Loft've decided to join our liddle stroll after all! Sure took 'em long 'nuff - if they'd been any later, it woulda been too dark fer 'em t' fly!"

"Yes, it is almost the hour for owls and foxes," Sodexo concurred.

Alex was too pleased to grouse. "This should help us out immensely. Now we'll have eyes and ears able to scout farther and faster ahead than even the Long Patrol, and maybe provide answers to some of these nagging questions."

Alex didn't even have to tell this to the birds; without so much as landing a single sparrow to rendezvous with the ground beasts, they seemed to sense their immediate purpose, some flapping ahead toward the two squirrels and their rat prisoner while others turned north in pursuit of the other four Gawtrybe.

"Spiffin' show, I say," the Colonel declared. "Let's see those bushtailed treejumpers try'n pull anything on us now that we've got peepers in the sky spyin' down on 'em from above!"

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Delk and Brisson were as surprised as anybeast by the unheralded twilight appearance of the Sparra, skimming past just over their heads in an almost playful manner.

"LattieRatty, LattieRatty, wecome, foryou, rescuesoon, rescuesoon!"

Thinking quickly for one of the few times in his life, Palter threw his head back and shouted out, "I ain't Lattie! It's a trick, a trick! Warn th' Redwallers, warn - " And that was all he got out before Delk clobbered him hard with a sturdy yew bow across the skull, sending Palter sprawling to the ground.

But it was enough. The Sparra made one last low pass to more fully inspect this rat dressed in Latura's dress who claimed not to be that rat, and then they wheeled around to swoop away again and carry Palter's truncated warning to the rescue party.

"Looks like this ruse is up," said Delk.

"Not if I can help it," Brisson growled, his cold gaze locked on the retreating winged shapes as he reached over his shoulder for his quiver.

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Matowick's main group also found themselves being shadowed by the sparrows, although in their case the birds stayed higher, seeing no need to engage the four Gawtrybe who marched alone with no rat prisoner.

"Well, that's a turn for the worse," Nixalis assessed. "I was starting to think we'd seen the last of them. Wouldn't expect to see them out and about so close to nightfall."

"No," Matowick agree, "nobeast would, would they? And nobird either. A stroke of tactical brilliance on their part - wait until most of our gulls had flown down for the night, so that they could foray out from the Abbey unchallenged and mostly unseen in order to meet up with the rest of the rescue party. They've still got enough light left to get in some useful scouting, and they can be airborne again from their camp at first light to let their landbound comrades know right where we are, and whether we've pushed on through the night. Worst of all, if they range too far ahead they might spot Klystra and Latura, and then they'll know what we're all about. Truly an unfavorable turn of events."

"Then we'd better just stop them, hadn't we?" Nixalis snapped the string onto his bow and unlatched the hinged lid of his quiver.

"I don't know if we're ready for such measures yet, Nix," Matowick cautioned. "We've still got a lot of the Plains to cross, and if we spill blood so soon ... "

"Think I should be able to wing one or two of them in the wings, sir, so to speak. Nothing lethal, just enough to scare 'em off and make them think twice about tailing us. As you say, we've still got a lot left to - UGH! What the_ fur_?!"

The others stiffened to attention at their companion's alarmed outburst. "What is it, Nix?" Matowick asked.

Nixalis held out the shaft he'd withdrawn; even though he spread his digits wide, the feathered end of the arrow clung to his paw seemingly of its own accord. "It's all sticky! Somebeast has gummed up the guide feathers!" Flinging the corrupted projectile to the ground, he sniffed and then licked at his tacky paw. "Honey! It's been coated with honey!"

"Bet I know where _that_ came from," Matowick muttered. "As if it's not enough that that badger's joined their pursuit of us, his honey's plaguing us too!"

Flaquer found this all quite funny, in his tired state. "How's it taste, Nix?"

Nixalis reached into his quiver for another arrow, then another, and more after that, all with the same result. "My whole quiver's been sabotaged! Not a single usable shaft left - all ruined!"

The fourth squirrel of their group, Selen, snickered. "Well, that's a sweet jam to be stuck in!"

"Not jam," Flaquer corrected. "Honey, 'member?"

Matowick, reaching for his own quiver, saw nothing amusing about the situation. "In case you yucksters had forgotten, all our weapons were being kept in the same place while we were at Redwall. Which might well mean ... " Dipping into his own supply of shafts, he found his personal arsenal similarly stickily tainted. "You two, check yours - although I'm not holding out any hope it'll be any different."

Sure enough, all four quivers had been targeted, leaving them without a single flight-worthy arrow between them ... and Flaquer and Selen weren't laughing now.

"Now that's some treachery for you!" Nixalis ground out between clenched teeth. "Those arrows were the only thing holding us equal to the Redwallers' larger force. We've been effectively disarmed! With just our blades, we won't stand a chance against the Long Patrol, never mind a Badger Lord and the Guosim. If that gang went through Choock's shrews as effortlessly as they did, they'll be done with us in an eyeblink and a tail's shake!"

"Then we don't let them catch up to us," said Matowick. "I'd thought all along we might have to push on through the night, but now we've no choice in the matter. Hopefully Captain Saugus will show up soon to act as our night eyes, but even if he doesn't, we'll have to keep going on our own. And if we're overtaken in spite of our best efforts, it will be up to Altidor and Klystra to get our target to Salamandastron however they can."

"What about Delk and Briss?" Nixalis wondered. "Do you think their quivers were gummed up too?"

"Do you doubt it for a moment? And as soon as they discover it for themselves, they'll know to ditch the decoy and double their speed to try to rejoin us; that's where we could also use Saugus's help. If we can reunify and put some good distance between us and the Redwallers, we might yet be able to win this race."

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Rafter came flapping down from the darkening sky to land before the questors, his state clearly agitated.

"Changecourse, changecourse! Youchase wrongrat, wrongrat!"

"Huh?" Clewiston drew back, ears crossed in consternation. "Wot th' bloomin' brushswallows do you mean? We're goin' after the blighters who've got Latura."

"Right ho," Peppertail backed up his Colonel, "we saw 'em with our own peepers, an' the bally tracks say we're followin' the ones who've got Lattie."

"Wrongbeasts, wrongbeasts!" the Sparra insisted. "Gawtrybe take _two_ rats fromAbbey. You chase wrongrat now, dressed in Lattydress! Tricktricktrick!"

The expedition leaders looked at each other in surprised understanding. "Two rats?" Log-a-Log murmured. "Never woulda figgered on that. Don't that beat all?"

"Then who's the rat we're chasin' now?" Clewiston asked.

"Shrimpyrat, measlyrat, littlewhinger, from Lattievillage. Gawtrybe make tworats switchclothes, looksame from faroff! Tricktricktrick!"

"Still don't get it," Peppertail grunted. "If we're chasin' the wrong flippin' rodent, then where is Lattie? We saw 'em split up, an' the group who headed north was just four squirrels, with no rats 'mongst them. We even followed their tracks for a bit just to make sure, an' unless they're carryin' her, she's not with 'em."

"Notknow, notknow." Rafter gave a head-shaking, wing-wriggling shrug. "NoLattie insight, anywhere. Toodark flyabout now, somewhere hidden maybe. Find LattieRatty in mornsun!"

"Wot a revoltin' development." Peppertail looked to Clewiston. "Wot now, sah?"

"Wot I should've done long before now, Sergeant. Take Pumphrey an' Buckalew out on a fast run with you to where those villains have their blinkin' impostor, check it out to make sure it's really not Lattie, then take him away from 'em an' bring him back here, assumin' they've not slain him already. We've been so fixated on meetin' our foe with our full strength, thinkin' we had all th' time in th' bally world to catch up with 'em out here on the Plains ... if only I'd sent ahead a patrol group soon as those two split off from the rest, we'd already have known about this masquerade, an' not lost this time. Wotever's goin' on here, that other rat'll have a much clearer notion 'bout things than we do. Maybe he can even tell us where they've got Lattie stashed."

"What do we do in the meantime?" Alex gazed north. "This has led us so far astray, we'll have to backtrack quite some way just to pick up the trail of the other four. We'd never be able to do it before full dark."

"Wouldn't wanna try'n push on under cover of night anyways," said Clewiston, watching as Peppertail's trio sped off after the two Gawtrybe and their decoy. "After hearin' 'bout this swaggerin' subterfuge, no tellin' wot else they might try, or wot we might blunder into. For all we jolly know, that foursome to the north might not lead us to Lattie either. Could be they passed her off to somebeast else of Urthblood's who was lyin' in wait out here - some moles who pulled her down into an underground hideaway, or something like that. No, we'll make camp right here where we are, post watches 'til morn to guard against an ambush, an' hope that wotever we hear from Lattie's friend an' wotever our Sparra scouts can spy out for us come dawn will be enuff to set us on th' right path again - an' that we'll still be in a position to do something about any of this."

00000000000

"So, um, where will I be sleeping tonight?"

It was hardly the most awkward question posed - or the most awkward moment shared - over dinner in Great Hall that evening. But it clearly weighed uppermost on Geoff's mind now at meal's end, as he pushed away his empty dessert plate and looked to Vanessa at the head seat.

"I'm afraid Latura's family and friends are still occupying the gatehouse, so that won't be an option. But Arlyn has made himself right at home on one of the Infirmary beds these recent evenings. And if it's good enough for one former Abbot, it ought to be good enough for two, shouldn't it?"

Geoff bristled a bit under his habit, finding this the tenderest of subjects where he was concerned. "If you please, Vanessa, I would ask that you go lightly with the use of the term 'former Abbot.' It's not like I've retired from my responsibilities. I would say that I'm still getting used to this new state of affairs, except I'm not entirely sure just what the current state of affairs _is_."

"I realize and appreciate that the present situation is rather ... unwieldy. When things have settled down a bit, then we can formalize the power-sharing arrangements for the longer term. Until then, I'm afraid I must claim sole possession of the Abbess's chair, and assert my authority as Redwall's voice of leadership."

After the Infirmary incident of that afternoon, nobeast at the head table - least of all the violence-shy, unassuming deposed Abbot - was about to argue or question Vanessa's authority. The sleeping arrangements, however, were quite another matter.

"When things settle down?" Geoff threw back at her. "And when, pray tell, will that be? When Latura has been returned to Redwall - or our rescuers return empty-pawed, whichever the case may be? When the Gawtrybe drop their siege of our home, which they show no sign of contemplating, this season or next? When Urthblood gives up on the gathering of all rats from Mossflower to send them off to Tratton, deciding it's no longer worth the trouble? Or maybe when he dies and his policies die along with him? Which may well be a generation or two after all of us here are in our own graves from old age, considering how long badgers can live ... "

"Geoff, you're being rather overdramatic, I think."

"Is he?" interjected Maura, who'd given up her usual seat at the children's table in order to keep a closer eye on the Abbess. "It now appears our rescue party stands an excellent chance of bringing Latura back to Redwall - especially now that our Sparra have joined their crusade, even if it was against your wishes. Will war come to Redwall as a result? Will Urthblood not rest until he has her? You yourself asserted as much at our council today. How will this ever be settled, if he will stop at nothing to get her?"

Vanessa serenely folded her paws on the table before her. "Sometimes, Maura, you just have to have faith that all will work out for the best."

"The best for whom?" Winokur jumped in from Geoff's other side; like Maura, he'd given up his place where he would have preferred to be seated - in his case, with Latura's family and fellow villagers - to monitor his returned Abbess more closely. "Certainly not for Latura - not if you have your way."

Vanessa fixed him with an unrepentant gaze. "You made your feelings on this matter quite apparent down in Cavern Hole earlier. But faith is no small thing. Do you have faith in me, Winokur?"

"I had faith in the Abbess Vanessa I used to know, the one who would put herself in harm's way if it might keep others from harm. Sadly, I do not see her at this table."

"Your feelings are duly noted. Nevertheless, this situation is what it is, and all our wishing for it to be otherwise will not make it so."

"Speaking of the situation - and getting back to the one more immediately at paw - I still haven't heard where I'm supposed to sleep tonight, or from now on," Geoff pressed. "I can't be put out of my present bedchamber - all my clothes and things are in there!"

Vanessa raised an eyebrow at him, and even Maura and Winokur joined in with bemused glances. "Your clothes? But all you wear are brown habits, and they're all the same."

"And sandals! Don't forget the sandals!"

"I find it telling that I also discovered in your wardrobe several changes of habits in my preferred color of green, and in my size, too."

Geoff's gaze fell to his paws. "Maybe that's because I never gave up hope that they would someday be needed again. Although I must agree with Winokur, in that your return to us has hardly taken the shape or direction any of us would have predicted - or necessarily hoped for." His eyes rose to meet hers again. "And that was most improper, I'll have you know, going into my private sanctum and riffling through my belongings like that!"

"Perhaps there was still a bit of the mischievous imp in me when I did that. But you all must also concede, would any of you have taken me seriously as Abbess again were I not wearing these robes?" Vanessa gave a dismissive shrug. "Very well. If you feel it would pose too much of a hardship for you to switch quarters, keep to the bedchamber you've been using, and I'll keep to mine. But the study beyond your bedroom door is now my office, until further notice."

Geoff seemed unsure how to react to this edict, winning what he'd directly agitated for only to have his diminished status further emphasized. "Erm, thank you, uh, Nessa ... "

"You've proven very good this day at throwing your weight around," Maura said to her, "considering you weren't even in your right mind as recently as this morning. Or were you just pretending this morning? Or has it been even longer?"

"I really couldn't say, Maura. The time before Latura is all rather jumbled for me. It's not something I prefer to dwell upon."

"But Latura was with us for a long time," Winokur pointed out. "Many days out of this season. Have you been pretending to be addle-brained all this time?"

"No. Everything came fully clear only when she touched me."

"Was that before or after all the elaborate pranks you and the little terror squad hatched for this morning?"

"I don't know what you're getting at, Maura."

"I'm guessing you do, Nessa."

"If her touching you was all it took to restore you," Winokur asked, "why did you go to such lengths to avoid Latura until today?"

"That should be obvious: Such things happen when they are meant to happen. Not before, and not after."

The otter Recorder studied her hard, just as he had all throughout the meal, then nodded across Great Hall, toward the Tapestry. "And what does Martin think about all of this?"

"I should think that was abundantly clear by now."

"Clear as murk," Maura muttered.

"And does Latura's touch also account for how a once-benevolent Abbess can now slay multiple foebeasts like a steel-hearted warrior?"

Vanessa pushed back her chair and rose. "You - " she pointed and Maura - "and you" - pointing to Winokur, "in my study, right now."

Maura scowled as she grudgingly fell into step behind Vanessa. "Will there be blades involved?" she grumbled with blatant sarcasm.

"Your attempt at humor is neither appreciated nor appropriate."

"Seemed like a pertinent question to me," Winokur said as he brought up the rear.

Vanessa made no further retort or response as she sternly led the badger and otter up the stairs out of Great Hall, every eye in the spacious gathering chamber fixed firmly upon them as they retreated from view.

Seated away at a separate table, Budsock and his friends Droge and Pirkko looked to Cyrus with some concern. "Are Mother Maura and Brother Winokur in trouble?"

"I'm not sure," their substitute teacher and apprentice Recorder replied. "But I'm rather glad it's not _me_ going up there."

00000000000

The Long Patrol and Guosim had their camp well-set for the night by the time Peppertail, Pumphrey and Buckalew emerged from the deep twilight escorting Palter between them, the quartet finding its way back to the others by homing in on the single small campfire Clewiston had ordered lit.

The Colonel, Alexander, Sodexo and Log-a-Log strode forward to greet the returning patrol. "Wot news, Sergeant? Did those Northland treewhompers give you much trouble gettin' this chap away from 'em?"

"None at all, sah," Peppertail answered as he presented Palter to his cohorts, "since they'd bolted from th' bally scene long before we arrived. Left this one all alone, just lyin' on th' ground where they'd clobbered him down. Took us awhile to bring him 'round and back up on his paws to the point where he could walk again. We considered goin' after those two ruffians who had him, but by then it was too dark to track clearly, an' we didn't want to walk into somethin' we'd just as soon avoid - or risk losin' this one again, since he was the one we went out there for in th' first place. Figgered it was more important gettin' him back than runnin' after bushtailed night phantoms we'd like as not never find an' who might not be able t' tell us anything more than this one can."

"Good thinkin', Pepp. A seasoned patroller knows his mission an' objectives, an' you showed your seasonin' on this run. So, has he told you anything useful so far?"

"Useful, yah. Encouragin', not so much. 'Fraid Urthblood's crew has one-upped us more than we bargained for once again. But I'll let this ratface here give you the whole dish, since he was there t' witness it for himself."

Clewiston felt his disposition souring even before Palter had uttered a word. "Doesn't sound like anything I'd jolly well want to hear, but it's an offisah's lot to take th' bad with th' good, don'tcha know. So, tell us, what've they done with Lattie?"

"Well, Mr. Hare sir, when they realized you were gainin' on 'em an' bound t' catch up sooner than they thought, an' that you might not've caught on that they'd snatched me 'n' Lattie both, they made us switch clothes. 'Cuz we're kinda th' same size, y' see? Er, um, then they had that big monster bird o' theirs pick her right up in its mighty claws, an' bear her away on up ahead. Lifted her clear off th' ground, an' just flew away with 'er!"

This report evoked considerable consternation from the rescue party. A few of the Sparra, nestled down for the night beyond the ring of shrews, chittered, "Klystrafalcon, Klystrafalcon!"

Clewiston grimaced in the near-dark. "Shoulda known His Bloodiness would have a contingency like this all planned out. Could you make out how far ahead that blinkin' bird bore her?"

Palter shook his head. "Far 'nuff that I couldn't see 'em no more."

"Reckern that overgrown featherbag coulda carried her all th' way to Salamandastron by now?" Log-a-Log wondered, but Alex quickly quashed this speculation.

"I was there at the battle of Salamandastron, up on the plateau when Klystra picked up a hare to cast it from the mountaintop. He had all he could do to bear such a weight for the few moments it took. And while Latura is much lighter than any hare, I'm sure Klystra would not be able to bear her for very long - certainly not over the mountain range."

"Yah," Clewiston grumbled, "but he can bear her far enuff t' frustrate us completely. Even if we do catch up to those Gawtrybe on th' morrow, now we know Lattie likely will still be somewhere up ahead of 'em ... an' if that warriorbird sees us gettin' too close for his downy comfort, he'll just pick her up an' fly her further onward. Blinkin' smart recipe for us never catchin' her. Startin' to make this whole flippin' undertaking look like a fool's errand."

"You ... you can't just give up on 'er!" Palter implored. "Y' can't! She needs yer help! Y' gotta rescue her!"

"Do not fret yourself unnecessarily," Sodexo reassured the rat as he entered the conversation. "This good squirrel has just stated that he does not believe our winged nemesis can bear Latura over the mountain range, and therein lies our hope. If true, then she will be stopped at the foot of the high pass, with nowhere to go. Then we need only overtake the Gawtrybe before they get that far themselves."

"I like your thinkin' there, Lord," Clewiston lauded. "Right optimistic, wot. Question now is, will we be able t' overtake those hooligans if they press on through th' night while we bed down here?"

"We really don't have much choice," Alex conceded. "In the morning, we'll have our Sparra scout ahead to pinpoint the Gawtrybe's current position, just as we'd planned, and then we'll know which direction to go, even if they're far ahead by then. Our birds can also warn us of any obstructions in our path. If we're lucky, they may even be able to locate Latura, so at least we'll know where she is."

"LattieRatty, LattieRatty!" the sparrows chirped, more sedately now that nightfall was almost fully upon them.

Peppertail eyed the modest blaze, crackling warmly against the encroaching darkness. "I say, are you sure it's a good idea havin' that goin', sah? Might be other eyes out there we don't want seein' right where we are."

"Oh, we mostly lit it as a beacon to help you find your way back to us. Once we all settle down for th' night - with watches posted, of course - we'll let it die, an' do without 'til daybreak. It's the food situation I'm more concerned about; you only grabbed enuff on your way out for a couple of days, an' much as I admire Mizzy 'n' Givvy's efforts, they clearly didn't wager on this stripedog an' all these shrewsnouts comin' along on this bally trek."

"Aw, we brought along plenny o' provisions of our own, don'tcha worry," Log-a-Log assured the Colonel. "While yer hare missuses were raidin' Redwall's pantry, we were throwin' t'gether haversacks of our own. If we ration it out sparin'ly, we'll make it stretch fer as long as we gotta!"

"Good show, my good Log! Well then, quick bite o' tuck now, a few sips from our pouches, an' then it's off to slumberland to rest up for tomorrow's leg of this chase!"

Palter looked around by the dancing firelight as the others broke into their supplies, none rushing to offer him any even though he felt certain his stomach's rumbling must surely be heard all the way back to the Abbey. But this talk of sleep had him casting about for the proper accouterments for such activities; even during the march from their home village, he'd never gone so much as a night without at least a blanket.

"Um, what about bedding? Where're th' blankets an' bedrolls?"

Clewiston cast a jaundiced glance the rat's way. "Case you'd not caught on, chappie, we left to come after you in a bit of a rough 'n' tumbled hurry. Be glad we were able t' scare up wot food 'n' drink we did, to ease our bellies an' thirsts. Cushy bivouac belongin's weren't 'xactly high on th' bally list, don'tcha know. But who needs 'em when you've got soft plains grasses for your bed? We're travellin' light, an' sleepin' even lighter. 'Cos speed's the thing now - an' if we've any hope t'all in gettin' Lattie back, it's speed that's going to get th' job done!"

As the hare Colonel turned dismissively away from the rat, Log-a-Log stepped forward to offer Palter a few morsels from his own supplies. Grinning as Palter accepted the food, the shrew chieftain chortled, "Looks like ye'll be sleepin' in that dress! Try not to get grass stains on it! "


	12. Chapter 84

**CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR**

"Close the door."

With Vanessa already moving behind her Abbess's desk in her study - which until recently had been Geoff's desk, in Geoff's study - and Maura helping herself to the room's lone badger-sized chair, the door-closing task fell to Winokur. The otter Recorder did as bidden, firmly pulling on the handle until he both heard and felt the latch click, then seated himself facing Vanessa, at Maura's left paw.

"Why are we here?" the Badgermum practically interrogated, her tone neither cowed nor amused.

"For me to talk, and you to listen."

Maura opened her mouth to retort to Vanessa's stern tone, closed it again and nodded. "Very well. I have so much I could say, but it's all outweighed by my questions, so I'm content to hear you out." She didn't add "for now" aloud, although the inference stood out plainly in her matronly statement.

"My questions are also myriad," said Winokur, "so I am all ears. But your manner makes me somewhat ... apprehensive. Are we in any sort of ... well, trouble?"

"No moreso than any Redwaller this night. My manner has more to do with the gravity of what is to be discussed."

"Then why just the two of us?" Maura asked. "Why not Geoff, and Arlyn, and ... well ... "

"Yes, we are rather short of leaders and defenders at the moment, aren't we? With Monty and Foremole away at the quarry, and Alex, Colonel Clewiston and Log-a-Log out chasing after Latura, and Lady Mina up in the Infirmary. But the ones I want here are here, and that's all that matters for the moment."

Maura straightened in her oversized chair. "About the Infirmary - now that _you've_ brought it up - just what did go on there this afternoon, Nessa? How did you overcome four armed rat fighters and slay them, so easily and so quickly? How did the notion to do so even enter your mind? It's not the behavior of any Abbot or Abbess I've ever heard of - nor of you, Nessa. At least not when you were Abbess - or Infirmary keeper before that."

"Only one of them was armed. That made the task admittedly easier."

"Nessa! This is nothing to be frivolous about!"

"Indeed it's not. And you're not doing a very good job of listening, Maura."

For the second time, Maura opened her mouth but no words came out.

"An answer to that question is not unreasonable, Abbess," Winokur gingerly broached, using a measured and probing approach in contrast to the badger's brusque and challenging one. "About what happened in the Infirmary ... "

Vanessa speared the otter with her gaze. "You already know, having spoken to the only surviving witness to the incident."

"Winokur has shared with me what the rat mother told him and Harth. But it still doesn't explain ... well, it still doesn't explain the whole thing."

"I promise you will not leave this room with that mystery unanswered. I have, after all, called you both here to explain to you what's really going on."

"Going on?" Maura shifted in her seat. "With what?"

"With everything. It may seem to you that the world has suddenly gone crazy, and turned all topsy-turvy, but I can assure you, the truth is far more convoluted than you imagine ... but also far simpler." Vanessa looked to Winokur again. "You've already half-guessed, haven't you?"

"I ... have some ideas. Or shadows of ideas. But every time I try to hold them up to the light in my mind, or make them fit together to form a single complete picture, it never quite ... comes together. And I'm not entirely sure I want you to elucidate me, whether I'm near the mark or far wide of it."

"Well, elucidate _me_!" Maura burst out. "Or I'll leave you two to your enigmatic bantering and get back to my youngbeasts, who are making a lot more sense these days than you are!"

"Maura, is that the respect you show your Abbess?"

"Nessa, after what I've seen today, I'm still not sure you're any more fit to hold that title than you were when you were running around these past three seasons like an out-of-control brat!"

"Very well then. We come to the question which lies at the crux of everything." The female mouse folded her paws on the desktop before her. "Which would you prefer, Maura - that your beloved Vanessa go back to being the wild and insolent shell of her former self that you've been contending with these past seasons ... or that she serve as a worthy vessel for Redwall's founding Warrior?"

Silence fell over the study then, a silence lasting many heartbeats, stretching out into the realms of the impossible. If Winokur's eyes were wide at having his wisps of suspicions confirmed, Maura's came to be twice as wide, the badger not having supposed anything of the sort might be going on here. When at length she broke the silence, her words added little to the discussion.

"No ... it can't ... no." But it was clear her spoken denial stood at odds with a dawning acceptance.

"Can it really be true?" Winokur asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The mouse behind the desk favored him with a not-quite-smile. "Do you really need me to answer that?"

Maura started to speak, cleared her throat when her utterance came out as a failed croak, then started over. "Abbot Geoff needs to be told at once!"

Vanessa's grim manner reasserted itself as she shot Maura a warning gaze. "Abbot Geoff must _not_ be told. I only trust certain beasts with this secret, and they are here in this room."

"Only two of us?" said Winokur, incredulous. "But, why us?"

"I felt _somebeast_ ought to know. But at the same time, those in the know must be limited to as few as possible, in case things do not go well."

"Not ... well?" Winokur tentatively prompted.

"When I stated at the council today that I had returned, I was not speaking as Vanessa - as you have no doubt surmised by now. But only a hazardous time such as this could have brought me back, and hiding in plain sight in this way seemed the best approach, since nobeast is likely to deduce or even accept the truth unless forcefully confronted with it, as you were. For you see ... " Vanessa stopped in mid-sentence, head cocked to one side, then rose and came out from behind her desk, going to the door. "Excuse me a moment."

Opening the door with forceful abruptness, she revealed Geoff loitering in the hallway beyond. And if his ear wasn't exactly pressed to the door, it was plainly obvious that he'd not merely been passing by at that moment.

"Yes, Geoff, may we help you?"

"I, um, just wanted to get something from, ah, my bedchambers ... "

"We're in the middle of a private discussion. Come back when we're finished." And with that, she slammed the door on him.

Maura and Winokur sat at a loss for words as Vanessa circled back behind her desk and resumed her seat there. Maura started to say something, but the mouse held up a paw, demanding silence. At length she lowered it. "We can continue. He's gone now. I don't think we'll be disturbed further."

"How did you ... ? I know your ears are bigger than mine or Wink's, but still ... "

"That little demonstration had nothing to do with the hearing acuity of this body. Ask me where any creature within Redwall is at this exact moment, and what they are doing, and I will tell you."

Maura raised an eyebrow. "So much for privacy."

"You have as much privacy with me as you ever had. At least until Urthblood came, and blocked my ability to watch over Redwall. But now, like him, I reside with a footpaw in each world, and I can resume my role of guardian and protector - if not in the form I might have imagined, or preferred."

"So Geoff was right," said Winokur. "Urthblood's presence really was keeping you ... I mean ... " He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm just having trouble wrapping my mind around all of this. I mean, what are we even supposed to call you?"

"Vanessa, of course. Certainly outside this room, and inside it as well, if it helps keep your mind away from a slip which might reveal me to others."

"But, you're not Vanessa," Maura clarified. "You're ... our founding Warrior. So where is Nessa now? What will become of her?"

"I am sorry to have to tell you this, but Vanessa died when that slingstone hit her head at Foxguard. I entered her immediately, and not entirely of my own volition; even there, at that place he'd never visited, Urthblood's presence was strong enough to blind me, to bar me from this world. The stone he'd personally overseen being excavated and shaped to his will, his moles on site building his tower to the sky, his foxes who were meant to dwell there - all conspired to hold me at a distance. But it was far enough from Redwall and the quarry, and fate had ideas of its own that day, and so when she was struck down it was like a gate opening and beckoning me within, and I got through in the only way I could.

"But her body was damaged, and grievously so. Inhabiting her in the way I did forestalled death, but total recovery proved impossible. And Urthblood's influence over Mossflower remained a barrier as well - perhaps the most substantial one. Thus I was stuck partway, unable to fully animate or inhabit Vanessa, just a fragment of myself able to manifest itself. And the result, as you well know, was the addled, affected former Abbess you've had to cope with all this time. I could not have told you the truth, even had I wanted to, even had I been aware of it myself. In a way it was the worst of all possible worlds: no longer Vanessa, but no longer anybeast else either."

"You can say that again." Maura shook her head in sadness. "So, Vanessa is truly dead?"

"Yes and no. She no longer dwells in this world, not as she did, and if my spirit were to leave this body, it would surely die. But Vanessa has not moved on to Dark Forest either. She remains with me here still. Her spirit and mine have intermingled, in a sense. And just as I remember everything she has ever seen and done and said and known, so she continues to look over my shoulder, as it were, looking out these eyes and hearing with these ears and even thinking with this brain. And if she does not entirely approve of the measures I have been forced to, at least she understands their necessity. That message is for you in particular, Winokur. From her to you."

The otter straightened at having this specifically addressed to him, but was not so overwhelmed by these revelations that he failed to pick up on something the dual mouse before them had said. "But, you have died. Several times, for brief moments. No heartbeat ... not breathing ... "

Vanessa smiled and nodded. "I had to step out on those occasions, to visit a certain ratmaid."

Maura stared at her. "You brought Latura here?"

"As I said at the council, the paw of Martin is heavy in these events. He needed Latura to come to Redwall, for the reasons laid out at that gathering, and he needed Latura to leave afterward, for the reasons also stated earlier today. I may not have been entirely forthcoming as to my identity down in Cavern Hole, but otherwise, what I said there was wholly truthful."

"That still strikes me as rather, well, cold-hearted, even knowing what I know now," Winokur said. "Using Latura for your own ends like that, and then just letting Urthblood have her when you were done with her. She deserves better thanks than that, if what you say about your recovery is true. From you, and from Redwall."

"It really bothers you, doesn't it?"

Of course it does!"

"And that is why you will make a splendid Abbot. But that is a conversation for another day. For now, we must direct ourselves toward the crisis at paw."

"You mean the Gawtrybe besieging us?" Maura assumed.

"I mean their master."

"Now that we've given him Latura," the badger asked, "if she really is so important to him, do you suppose there's any chance he might relent on this campaign, and allow our rats to dwell here without harassing us any more?"

"As long as he maintains the pretense of this Accord with Tratton, those rats will be a sticking point with him, and he dare not relent, for appearance's sake if nothing else. But if it weren't the rats, it would be something else, and something else after that. No, this situation cannot be allowed to continue. Which is why I have taken the steps that I have."

"What do you mean?" Winokur inquired. "Was Latura's surrender a ploy to buy us time for something bigger?"

"Latura _is_ the 'something bigger.' And letting Urthblood have her was not about buying time at all. You still fail to fully grasp what is going on here."

"Apparently we do," Maura said. "So please tell us."

"Latura poses a mortal threat to him, which is why he has gone to such lengths to secure her. But he misunderstands the nature of that threat, and believes it is his to eliminate at his whim. I did not send Latura his way for him to prevail, but so that she could fulfill this very destiny he so fears."

Vanessa paused, looking first Winokur then Maura squarely in the eye. "My aim is not to placate Urthblood. My aim is to destroy him. And Latura is my weapon."

The others sat speechless at the implications of Redwall's founding Warrior openly declaring a vow of annihilation upon the most powerful Badger Lord in history. "But, how ... ?" Maura murmured at last.

"When Latura is brought before him, Urthblood will most certainly have her slain. I cannot see him leaving the task to anybeast else - indeed, I am not certain whether any ordinary creature could even succeed in such an assignment. A mantle of fate surrounds that ratmaid, a power as much without her as within her. We've seen what happened with Krayne, and with Mina. In her own way, Latura might be all but invincible where most of us are concerned. But Urthblood's power stands on a level with hers, perhaps even exceeds hers, and he will be able to succeed where nearly everybeast else must fail."

"But, once he does that, doesn't he win?" said Winokur. "With her slain, the threat to him ends as well."

"On the contrary. Latura's power is passive, not active like Urthblood's. Her threat lies in her potential. And when Urthblood's blade finds her heart, or her neck, that potential will explode, as surely as one of Tratton's stormpowder kegs would explode. Not in this world, but in the next. In _my_ world. And the shrapnel from that explosion will pierce Urthblood to the core, lacerate and shred the very center of his being. His prophetic powers will be destroyed. His ability to command others will be destroyed. And all his works will unravel and come undone as if of their own accord. He will fall, and fall hard, brought lower than the lowliest vermin he ever refused to take into his service through sheer wretchedness."

Winokur and Maura were stunned by this explanation, and again it was the badger who responded first. "And, we want this to happen?"

"We need it to happen, if we can make it so. The threat of Urthblood cannot be understated, and this may prove our only opportunity to remove it. No lesser threat could have brought me back from Dark Forest. Not even the Long Patrol, so vocal for so long about this menace to anybeast who would listen, fully grasp the danger he poses to the lands."

Maura nodded slowly. "So Urthblood _is_ evil ... "

"Evil? No, not really. Is a summer thunderstorm evil? Is a blizzard, or a raging sea, or a howling gale? Was the earthquake that sent up the high cliff wall that sunders much of Mossflower evil? That cataclysm certainly altered the face of the lands forever, without a shred of malicious intent behind it. So it is with Urthblood. And that is what makes his danger so insidious.

"You have seen Urthblood in the flesh only. You know him through word and deed alone. I have seen him from a much more elemental perspective, without the burdensome, misleading distraction of physical form. You see, fate and destiny, like the ocean and the rivers and the winds, has currents of its own, which can be just as unpredictable, flowing this way and that according to no set pattern that any mortal or immortal eye can fully comprehend, swirling eddies and surging torrents and undertows and slipstreams and side channels, and waves crashing together. And once in a great while, all those myriad variations combine in some arcane way to produce a result so far from what is normal that it seems almost impossible. And that is what has happened now. Urthblood is the product of just such a freak confluence of strands of fate and twists of destiny. Urthblood is a thing that should not be."

"And we're stuck with him." Then something struck Winokur which had not occurred to Maura. "What of Urthfist, then?"

"Oh, he rails. He rails, and it is terrible to behold. He cannot bring himself to pass through the gates of Dark Forest, but unlike Vanessa, who tarries because of her connection to me and this body, Urthfist's insane, raging stubbornness unhinges him. Only now, in the omniscience of death, can he realize how futilely doomed was his opposition to Urthblood, how mismatched a contest he was caught in, and the true nature of the implacable enemy he faced in his brother. Imagine being a normal beast - a powerful Badger Lord, yes, but otherwise as normal in mortal terms as either of you - and finding out upon your demise that the brother who'd slain you is not evil as you'd suspected, but isn't even a real beast at all - just an empty shell, a cruel twist of fate created by a whim of chance, destined to visit unimaginable destruction upon the lands without reason or purpose. They say the spirit of Gabool the Wild is utterly mad, but that deranged pirate king pales next to Urthfist. Even the most formidable of all the past vermin warlords fear the day that Urthfist will enter Dark Forest."

"I'd ... well, I'd actually meant whether Urthfist himself was a product of fate just like Urthblood, but I think you've answered that. But, have you fully considered the ramifications of Urthblood's fall? What of Tratton, for example? Without Urthblood's forces to hold the coast, there'll be nobeast to stop that Searat King's expansionist plans or quest for power."

"Tratton is of no real concern - not compared to Urthblood. His forces are at home on the high seas and its islands. They are not equipped for extended land occupations or excursions far from their base of power. And if Tratton ever thinks to overextend himself by bringing an army to our walls to threaten us, I will make him regret it. I will make him regret it very badly."

Winokur studied the mouse. "So, do you mean to take up the sword of ... er, your sword - again?"

"That would be rather difficult just at the moment, since Montybank has it at the quarry. But if this gambit with Latura plays out as I anticipate, that really should not be necessary. Our greatest danger will have been eliminated, and Redwall boasts enough dedicated defenders to see us through the aftermath, whatever it might bring." Vanessa gave a wistful pause. "Although, some of them might not come back from this folly in which they're presently engaged."

"What if they succeed?" Maura asked. "What if they get Latura away from the Gawtrybe and bring her back? What happens then?"

"They won't succeed."

"You ... 'know' this?"

"Not with certainty - not in the way you mean. But I know Urthblood. He might have tread lightly where Redwall was concerned, dispatching only a small squad to extract Latura for him, but now that the action has moved out into the Western Plains, he will consider himself freed from any such need for restraint, and bring his full forces to bear. He won't worry about casualties on either side to get what he wants. Not now."

"So," Maura asked, "how long will you stay?"

"For as long as I have to. Although, if things go amiss with Latura, matters may grow somewhat ... hazardous. There are certain risks I took when I reclaimed the Abbess's chair as a restored Vanessa. Earlier I spoke of hiding in plain sight, but this identity may prove too open and obvious."

"Especially if you go around slaying beasts out of paw," Winokur said. "I nearly figured it out on my own, and I wouldn't be surprised if Geoff or Arlyn aren't very far behind me. If it weren't for the hectic pace of events keeping their minds otherwise occupied ... "

"Yes, I'll admit I let my Warrior's side get the best of me today, and perhaps I was too quick to resort to force. I might have some lessons to learn about inhabiting a mortal body again."

"Not as far as blade skills go," quipped Maura. "But why then didn't you stay as you were? You'd have attracted far less attention to yourself if you'd outwardly remained affected and impaired. And you'd gotten very good at hiding when you didn't care to be found. Now, all eyes are on you."

"A number of reasons. First off, although it may seem trivial in the grand scheme of things, I could not have stood by and let Percival and the leverets be punished for what I put them up to this morning. They were under my influence, acting at my bidding. It simply wouldn't have been right. But also, I felt that adopting a mantle of mortal authority might allow me to exert my will more directly here, and exercise control over events without having to resort to more otherworldly methods, as I had been. And inhabiting a revered and sorely-missed former Abbess gave me an easy avenue for doing just that. As it turns out, however, even this old ghost Warrior cannot have everything go his way. There's simply too much free will - and, in the case of our Long Patrol friends, stubbornness - involved for anything to be as clear-cut as that."

Maura noticed Winokur smiling, looking almost amused. "What is it?" she asked the otter.

"Oh, I'm just cheered that, after taking such a cold and calculating approach toward Latura, our returned Warrior is still worried about our young ones taking undeserved strappings across their tails. Maybe there's hope after all!"

"This is Redwall, Winokur. There's always hope."

"Yes, I suppose there is. But there is something else I must ask you, although I almost dread to bring it up. Last night, at our council with Harth and Matowick, after it was over Latura had a moment with Abbot Geoff that seemed quite portentous, and left me disquieted, although it seemed to go right by most everybeast else, including Geoff himself. What did Latura see?"

"I cannot say. I was not aware of that incident when it happened, and was not privy to anything about it. But it was Latura's vision, not mine, so I cannot even speculate. I myself have seen only confused glimpses of what is to come, or what may come, since the future is still being shaped even as we sit here. So much depends upon what transpires in the coming days that I suspect nothing is written in stone at this point. The entire situation remains very fluid indeed."

"Urthblood's prophecy is written in stone," Maura reminded them. "Right up in Salamandastron's throne room."

"Yes, there is that," Vanessa conceded.

"And Alexander is the only Redwaller who's seen it," said Winokur. "Pity he's not here with us now. His insight might prove useful."

"Perhaps. Then again, unless he knew how to decipher Badger Script, it was all just meaningless runes to him."

"Runes ... and pictograms," Maura put in. "Including, by all accounts, one of this very Abbey, right in the middle of the carven prophecy. A picture whose presence Urthblood has never explained to anybeast's satisfaction. Do you suppose this current mess with Latura and the rats was something he foresaw, some way or another, even back then?"

The mouse pursed her lips. "It's possible, I suppose. The appearance of Redwall in his prophecy could carry any number of meanings."

"More to the point," said Winokur, "has he foreseen _you_? Your return in this manner?"

"I do not believe so, although of course with Urthblood it is impossible to know. Then again, as has been said often at Redwall lately, the Seer hides the Seer - and with both Latura and myself exerting influence over these events, I suspect the prophetic plane has grown so tangled and clouded between the two of us that Urthblood's sight will be seriously limited. All his focus lies on Latura, and thus I imagine she will shield me from him. It's probable he will not deduce my involvement in these affairs."

Maura's brow revealed creases of worry. "If Matowick tells him Redwall's former Abbess helped with Latura's capture, Urthblood might be able to figure it out on his own pretty quickly."

"I took care of that. By the time Matowick and his squirrels reach Salamandastron, not a one of them will remember anything about me helping them with their mission."

Maura and Winokur regarded Vanessa with renewed awe. "Is there anything you can't do?" the badger wondered.

"A great deal, unfortunately. Which is why I have brought the two of you in on this little conspiracy of mine. I'll need other Abbey leaders to back me up if Geoff or the Long Patrol should question me too vehemently. Of course, if Urthblood does slay Latura as I anticipate, then I'll happily step down and yield the Abbot's chair to Geoff once more. Maybe become Infirmary keeper again, to give Arlyn and Metellus a badly-needed paw in that area."

"Could you do that?"

"I remember all that Vanessa ever knew, Maura."

Winokur ran his paw across his lips. "I'm still ill at ease about this. Even if Urthblood doesn't learn enough from Matowick to surmise you've returned, he could still learn of it some other way ... assuming he doesn't already know. Latura, for example."

"A valid point; I can't control what our ratmaid says or does. We can only hope Urthblood doesn't give her much chance to speak, or try to interrogate her, before carrying out his predetermined sentence."

"Would it even take that much? Urthblood's been keeping you away from Redwall for seven seasons now, and drove you to the desperate lengths of possessing a slain Abbess to reach us again. Wouldn't that suggest he's been aware of you all along?"

"I do not think so, Winokur. The part of Urthblood that kept me away operates at a level I suspect even he neither controls nor is fully aware of. In one sense, yes, he and I have been warring ever since he first set paw in this part of Mossflower, but it was an invisible war, and a silent one too, heard only by Latura - more an effect of his heavily-fated presence than any willful act on his part. Did he feel it? Did he know?" Vanessa's shoulder's shrugged. "Even I cannot fully know what Urthblood knows and what he doesn't - and I suspect to some degree he might not even know this for himself."

"So, what do we do now?" Maura asked.

"We bide our time, and wait to see whether this shaft of fate loosed at the heart of Urthblood's power finds its mark. Closer to paw, we must reassure our rat guests that they are welcome and safe here, in spite of this day's events, while at the same time letting them know in no uncertain terms that misconduct and barbarous behavior will not be tolerated."

"I think you did a pretty good job of _that_."

Vanessa ignored Winokur's muttered comment. "And, of course, we must prepare for the return of our rescue party, in whatever state they'll be in. It's a good thing all of Vanessa's healer's knowledge resides in me, because I fully expect casualties."

She looked to Maura and Winokur. "Your most important task, of course, will be to keep my secret, and make sure you always think of me as Vanessa whenever we are where others might hear; I will be sure to remind you if I should sense any laxity or forgetfulness on your parts. I'll also seek your support on Abbey matters, should I be forced to any further unpopular decisions or drastic measures, although I should hope that after today, the worst of those are behind us."

"You'll get it." Maura looked to Winokur. "From both of us."

"Very good. Now let us adjourn for the night, before Geoff or anybeast else comes knocking again!"

As they all rose from their chairs, Winokur said, "There is one other thing I've long wondered about, and this conversation did little to shed light on the matter. Cyril. Why did you attach yourself to him with such, ah, tenacity after your return from Foxguard? You yourself said Vanessa died there, so it would have been all you at that point."

"An impaired, partial me, not fully through to this world." Vanessa paused at the door, not yet opening it. "But the answer is perfectly obvious. Or perhaps not so obvious, since there was so much going on then, and nobeast else likely noticed. But you see, when Urthblood came to Redwall two summers ago, in the midst of all the paw-wringing and questioning and uncertainty and Geoff scouring the Abbey archives for clues, only one Redwaller ever came before the Tapestry and opened his heart, directly asking _me_ for guidance. And while Cyril may have been asking more for himself than all of Redwall, his appeal still reached me. Even through the suffocating veil Urthblood had laid down over our home, still it reached me. And I never forgot, not even after inhabiting this body and forgetting to a large extent who I was. My behavior in this area was hardly appropriate, I admit, but I was reaching out, in the only way I was able, to the only Abbeybeast who'd fully reached out to me during those times."

The other two stood digesting this revelation, perhaps abashed at the implication that neither they nor any of their adult counterparts had taken the time or consideration to do what one novice mouse had done all those seasons ago. At length Winokur gave an amused chuckle. "I wonder what Cyril's reaction would be, if he could hear this?"

"Unfortunately, he can't. Now let us go look to the needs of Redwall, and do what we can to keep everything here together."

Vanessa opened the door, and the three of them strode out of the study into the corridor beyond, bound together by this most earthshaking of unshareable secrets.


	13. Chapter 85

**CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE**

The following morning, after an uneventful night of rest for the rescue party, the day got off to the expected start, bringing with it both good and bad.

Rafter and the other Sparra were airborne well before sunrise, just as soon as the heavens had brightened enough for them to clearly see the skies around them and the lands below. Thus it was that the winged contingent of their party brought the news that all had feared: Matowick and the Gawtrybe had indeed pressed on through the night, and now held a considerable lead over the group from Redwall. Moreover, Klystra and Latura had at last been pinpointed, and they rested well ahead of even the Gawtrybe.

"Here's wot I say we do," Clewiston announced over the last of his breakfast. "Me 'n' the Patrol will forge on ahead, overtake those bushtailed villains by noon, disarm an' detain 'em until the rest of you lollygaggers catch up. That way it'll at least keep their forces divided, an' put us closer to Lattie too, providin' that feathered terror doesn't take off with her an' fly her ever farther afield than she is now once he realizes his accomplices aren't coming on schedule. We may also be able to extract some useful intelligence from those Gawtrybe hooligans. Who knows? Maybe holdin' 'em might be enuff to get their flyin' cohorts to give Lattie back to us, an' then we can be on our merry way back to Redwall."

"I wouldn't hold my breath over _that_ happening," Alex told the Colonel. "The Gawtrybe are fanatically devoted to Urthblood, and won't let themselves be taken easily. You can expect a fight, even if they don't have any arrows for their bows. And even if you do succeed in capturing all of them without any serious injury to you or to them, they'd hardly sit still and let themselves be used as hostages, or bargaining chips."

"Well, that'd be up to their featherduster friend an' not them, wouldn't it?" Sergeant Peppertail pointed out. "I mean, he's th' one who's got Lattie now, so it's his call. Too bad all six of those squirrelvermin're back together, wot? Wonder how they pulled that off, under cover of dark?"

"Must be that owl o' theirs," Log-a-Log deduced. "Only he'd be able t' guide th' two who drew us astray back to their main group. But speakin' o' groups, Colonel, d' ya really reckon it's smart dividin' our own forces? Might be best if'n we stick t'gether ourselves."

"If we do that, my shrewy old chum, we'll not catch up with 'em until they're most of th' way to th' mountains. If they hold their lead long 'nuff to go through another night while we're forced to stop again, it'll put us in a bad way. Seven Long Patrol hares will be more than a match for six Gawtrybe, you can count on that - lucky number, seven, wot? An' there'll not be anything the rest of you would need us 'round for, since your lucky number's one - as in one great flippin' badger who took out an entire shrew line all by himself. I'd say any trouble that find you while we're gone's gonna find out wot real trouble is. Unless Urthblood 'imself shows up for a go at Lord Sodexo, or p'raps those fiendish foxes of his, I think we'll both stand in good stead with this strategy."

"Very well," said Alex. "Whatever reservations I might harbor about any of this, I must concede that we'd be hard-pressed to come up with any better plan, given what's been thrown at us. We agreed last night that overtaking the Gawtrybe is crucial, and I can't see that happening any other way. So do what you can, Colonel, and our Sparra will lend you whatever support they can. Once you've stopped Matowick and his squirrels, we'll join you as quickly as we can, and then ... well, then we'll see what we can make happen, with a few extra cards in our paw. Good luck."

The hares rounded up their gear and took off, two of the Sparra leading the way at low altitude. Clewiston's company wasn't even fully out of sight across the rolling plains before Alex, Sodexo, Palter and the Guosim were on their way as well, setting a more moderate pace than the hares' lopes but one still brisk underpaw.

"Do we hafta go so fast?" the rat whined, his own footpaws battered and bruised and his leg muscles painfully stiff from his interminable run of the day before. "Think I musta pulled sumpthin' yesterday ... "

Log-a-Log resisted the temptation to whack at the groaning rodent with the flat of his shortsword. ""What gives, ratface? I thought you wanted t' go after Lattie. Do ya or don'tcha?"

"Course I do, course I do! But you 'eard yer own birds: she's further on up than we'll ever make it. It's nabbin' them squirrel bullies that'll turn things 'round if they're gonna be turned 'round t'all, an' it's up to those hares t' do just that. So why th' need fer runnin'? They'll be awaitin' ahead of us whether it takes us just th' morn or inta afternoon, so why wreck ourselves when we don't hafta?"

"We can't foresee what trouble the Colonel and his Patrols might run into between here and there, or how fiercely the Gawtrybe might resist," Alex explained to Palter. "Therefore, the sooner we can rendezvous with them, the sooner we'll have an idea of the overall situation and what to do next."

"Oh." Palter seemed almost deflated at such a clear and cogent explanation, as if he'd expected the others to alter their plans based on his complaints - not that this had ever worked with his fellow rats either. "Well, I really dunno if I c'n keep up like this."

"Then stay behind!" Log-a-Log snapped. "I'm sure some Northland shrews or some more Gawtrybe or some o' Urthblood's gulls'll be by in good time t' collect you, an' then you'll be off fer a guided tour o' Salamandastron, follered by cozy accommerdations aboard a searat ship!"

"Would you like me to carry you?" Sodexo offered in a considerably more conciliatory tone. "I appreciate that you were pushed past your endurance yesterday, but we cannot have you slowing us down, and we could not in good conscience leave you behind."

To their surprise, Palter accepted this offer, and after a few moments' pause the party pushed on with the rat astride the Badger Lord's shoulders, the material of Latura's peach dress gathered up against the larger creature's neck like a padded collar. Sodexo gave silent thanks that his passenger had begun practicing better hygiene during his time at Redwall, and was not nearly as noxious as the typical woodland vermin.

"Now this's more like it!" Palter declared from atop his new perch. "Wish I'd had a badger to ride durin' th' whole trip to Redwall!"

"I doubt you'd have found another quite so accommodating as Lord Sodexo," Alex wryly remarked.

"Yeah," Log-a-Log seconded, "only reason we're indulgin' you now's 'cos we gotta get a move-on, an' you was holdin' us up too much with yer bellyachin' an' slow-footedness!"

"Hey! We might not be here at all if yer Abbess hadn't helped those squirrels capture Lattie in th' first place!"

Most of the others looked at Palter in surprise. "What do you mean?" asked Alex. "We know Vanessa ordered that we not go after Latura, but this is the first we're hearing that she actually helped the Gawtrybe take her." He looked to Log-a-Log and Sodexo. "Is this true?"

Sodexo shrugged, bouncing Palter upon his broad shoulders. "I was present at neither the abduction nor the council in Cavern Hole that followed, so I cannot say."

"An' I was at th' council," the shrew chieftain said, "but I don't recall Nessa admittin' to any such thing ... altho' at one point, she did say sumpthin' 'bout bein' there when th' Gawtrybe took Lattie."

"She weren't just there," Palter told them, "she's th' one who lured Lattie outta the Abbey t' begin with! Saw it with my own eyes! An' that's how I got nabbed too: I follered Lattie out, hopin' t' grab her 'fore she got too far or was noticed, so's I could ger 'er back inside again. Unforch'nately, we was both bein' follered from behind an' spied out from above, so we didn't stand a chance. Amazed we didn't get snatched long 'fore we was. But there was prob'ly no hope fer either o' us, once we set footclaws outside yer walls. Yer Abbess led us inta a trap, plain 'n' simple, an' there's no two ways about it!"

"Huh. This'll give us sumpthin' t' talk about once we get Lattie back t' Redwall."

Palter shot Log-a-Log a worried glance. "Y' don't s'pose the Abbess'll try'n forcefully bar us from Redwall, do ya?"

"She seemed of a mind that she might do just that. From what I heard tell, that loggerhead 'tween her an' Traveller was pretty tense. Glad I only came in on the end o' that. She tried her hardest t' talk that old gray hare outta sendin' reinforcements, but in the end he went with the orders he 'n' the Colonel had worked out 'tween them ahead o' time."

"We're overlooking one thing," Alex reminded his companions. "First we've got to _get_ Latura, before we can worry about what Nessa's reaction will be when we get her back to the Abbey." He glanced skyward uneasily; now that the sun was nearly risen, numerous winged shapes could be seen wheeling high in the sky - aerial warriors who were not the Abbey's Sparra. "My vision may be playing tricks on me, but I'd say we've got about twice as many eyes on us from above as we did most of yesterday."

"Then we'd best get on with it," said Log-a-Log. "Sooner this's over, th' better!"

And so the rescuers pressed on under the brightening dawn sky, pushing west as their airborne foe monitored them from high above.

00000000000

"I know what this place is."

Matowick spoke even before the first of the bodies, now little more than skeletons, came fully into view around the rim of the shallow, bowl-shaped valley. And his cold tone reflected the chill of the last winter's day any of these slaughtered creatures had ever known.

Brisson, more directly knowledgeable about this site than Matowick, picked up on his captain's mood. "Aye, this's a place I'd hoped never to see again, after my last duty here. I was glad we avoided it on our way to Redwall, and counted on doing likewise on our run back to the coast. Guess that was too much to ask for, given everything we've faced on this mission."

Delk looked from one to the other in confusion. "What? I'm lost here."

Matowick's terse, flat response explained all. "The Flitch-aye-aye."

The marching squirrels came to a halt on the rim of the wide depression, now an unassuming circular valley of green meadowgrass broken only by the occasional mossy tussock or smooth rock formation. The evil vaporous wisps which had once hung over this sunken knoll day and night were now only a nightmarish memory, and under the friendly spring sun, the setting looked as harmless and innocent as Redwall's own lawns.

"I wasn't here for it," Matowick said. "I stayed behind to oversee Salamandastron, in the wake of the young Accord. Lord Urthblood directed this operation personally, with the late Captain Tardo coordinating the shrew force, and the moles and Gawtrybe as well. When they all returned to report the total success of the enterprise, I felt no more overjoyed than I would have been at a report of failure. What was done here needed to be done, but it is nothing to be heralded or celebrated, and I for one am glad I could avoid taking part in it."

"Wish I could've avoided it too," said Brisson. "But His Lordship needed some shooters here to meet any counteroffensive they tried to mount, and to take down any escapees who might otherwise survive to infect other locales with their evil. We performed our duty unwaveringly on that occasion, just as the Gawtrybe always do - but hardly did we relish it."

"So," weighted Nixalis, "do we go through, or around?"

At that moment one of their seagull escorts skimmed by overhead. "Why stop? Hares closing fast, catching up, catching up, crawwk!"

"Guess that decides it," said Delk. "Straight through it is, and with all the speed we can muster."

But Matowick shook his head, having had the time to pick out many additional Flitch-aye-aye remains littering the floor of the circular valley, their gruesome presence blending so well into their peaceful natural surroundings that an untrained eye might easily have missed them. "No. We go around." Saying no more, he started off around the rim of the valley to his right, clearly expecting his Gawtrybe to dutifully fall into step behind him.

"But, sir," Delk protested, hanging back a beat until he realized the majority of their company followed Matowick's lead with no further bidding, "those hares have been chasing us at a full tilt run all morning! They've all but wiped out any lead we gained by marching straight through the night, and maybe then some! If we take the long way around here, they'll surely overtake us soon after!"

"Then they overtake us," Matowick bit off. "It's pretty plain nothing's going to prevent that from happening now. They're fresh off a night's rest, while we're running ourselves ragged; it's just a matter of sooner, or later. But I'll not go through that place of death."

"And who knows?" Brisson put in. "Maybe the Long Patrol will be so appalled by what they find here, they'll break off pursuit for a bit to investigate. At the very least they'll wonder why we chose to skirt this valley when it would clearly make more sense to simply cross it, and that might serve to pique their curiosity. Could be this detour might actually buy us some time."

"Probably a fool's hope," Delk maintained. "I don't know why you're all being so squeamish about this. From everything I've ever heard, those flesh-devouring barbarians deserved all we gave 'em, and more. They were a blight upon these lands wherever they settled, a bane to innocent and unwary travellers and a curse to goodbeasts all!"

"Then consider their final resting place here doubly cursed," Matowick shot back. "They cursed it in life through their vile misdeeds, and Lord Urthblood's curse of doom came down upon them at their end to eradicate their evil once and for all, in a manner only the foulest of villains should ever have to suffer. Unknowing, uncaring footpaws may tread that dreaded grass in seasons to come. Mine will not."

Delk found no gumption within him to argue the point further, recognizing himself in the obvious minority. "So, what do we do when the Long Patrols catch up to us, and lay into us?"

"We still have our blades, if not our bows," Matowick answered. "We'll do what we can."

00000000000

"I say," Pumphrey observed as the Long Patrol neared the former domain of the Flitch-aye-aye, "those bushtails seem to've gone out of th' way for some reason. Circlin' wide - almost like they're jolly well beggin' to be caught!"

"Could be they know something we don't," said Peppertail. Looking to Clewiston, he added, "We've been wond'rin' whether they might have laid any traps for us out here, sir. This smells mighty suspicious to me."

"Then again, would they be so obvious about it, Sarge?" Buckalew pointed out.

"Not only that," Pumphrey added, "but if it is a trap, which way does it lie: Along the detour they're takin', or along the shortcut we could use to catch up to them?"

"They had _some_ reason for makin' that bally detour," said Clewiston, "an' where Urthblood's concerned, we take nothing for granted. Our Sparra chaps can spy out any obvious ambush from up above, so it's the less obvious we'll hafta keep an eye peeled for, wot? We've nearly closed the gap 'tween us an' those ratnappers, so we can afford to take it slow for a spell. We'll go into this with wary steps, eyes open and ears upright, an' not let anything take us by surprise."

Moments later they encountered the first of the flesh-stripped corpses, and the hares' astute, scanning gazes quickly discerned it was not alone.

"Egads!" Pumphrey exclaimed. "Wot happened here? Looks like a blinkin' plague swept through here!"

Clewiston knelt to inspect the nearest body. "Only plague that caught these blighters was one launched by bowstrings," he said as he reached out to rattle the feathered shaft protruding from between the exposed rib bones. "That's Gawtrybe fletching, unless my peepers deceive me."

"So, our bushtailed friends aren't above a massacre or two," Peppertail concluded. "Hardly surprising. You reckon they did this on their way out to snatch Lattie?"

"Not hardly, Pepp ol' chum. Look at the state of these bodies. Mostly skeletons. The elements an' insects have had some good while t' work on 'em. At least a season old, by my guess, an' maybe more."

"Then it's nothing t' do with us," the Sergeant said. "But what would the Gawtrybe have been doin' out here back in late autumn or durin' winter? What would have them out in the middle of these Plains during the most desolate time of year?"

"We'll just have to ask them when we catch up to 'em, won't we? But you're right; a massacre's exactly wot went on here."

"They look like weasels," Buckalew commented. "Real scrimpy 'n' scrawny ones, tho' it's hard to be sure from just th' bally bones. Unless they were all youngbeasts. Wouldn't put it past the Gawtrybe, using weasel children for flippin' target practice."

Clewiston shook his head, looking ahead to the shallow, round valley yawning before them. "I'm thinkin' not, Lew. Startin' to get an inkling wot we might've just stepped into, an' unless I miss my guess, it won't get any prettier. We're cuttin' through this valley, but it won't just be to gain ground on the Gawtrybe. Something happened here, something that needs to be investigated. Stay on your toes, chaps, an' be ready to run like you've never run before if danger pops up. But I don't think it's enemy beasts we need to worry about here. The peril might be of a sort we've never faced before."

Cautiously, the seven hares picked their way down the sloping sides of the circular valley, weaving between minor hillocks and rocky outcrops until they reached the uneven floor. As they passed more and more of the sunken dell's former inhabitants, they came to see that the corpses up above had not been those of youngbeasts at all; here they encountered others half to a third the size, and knew with solemn certainty that entire families had met their violent demise at this site.

"Not seein' any arrows in those down here," Peppertail murmured, hesitant to speak loudly in such unsettling surroundings. "An' these bodies seem less ... picked-over, for want of a better word. Almost like th' birds 'n' insects didn't wanna bother with 'em ... "

"Yes, strange, that," Clewiston acknowledged. "I'd noticed that m'self."

"Wager somebeasts came along an' gathered up all the spent shafts?" Pumphrey supposed. "Gawtrybe arrows are well-made, say wot you will about their makers. I can see them bein' viewed as valued spoils of battle, by scavengers passin' through or even by those brushtails themselves, not wantin' to leave behind their prized ammunition."

"Then why'd so many of the ones topside still have those shafts piercin' their bones?" Peppertail countered. "If somebeast was gonna go arrow-gatherin', you'd think they'd grab 'em all, an' not leave some behind."

"Unless wot killed those down here wasn't wot killed those up above." Clewiston drew in a deep, cautious sniff; it seemed to him that something vaguely acrid mingled with the fresh spring air, the faintest whiff of stinging putrescence lurking just beneath the more natural fragrances of growth and renewal. Following his hunch, he asked, "Any of you chaps feelin' th' least bit drowsy? Like you might want to just lie down for a jolly snooze right where you are, an' catch forty winks on this grass an' moss?"

"Not flippin' likely, sah," Peppertail returned, "not with the mystery of all these dead beasties all around us, an' you givin' dire warnings of dangers unseen. Got us keyed up an' ready for fight or flight, you have - 'bout as far from sleepy as can be. But you've got some notion wot's goin' on here, don'tcha?"

"That I do - an' frankly I'm surprised none o' you lot put two 'n' two together yourselves before now, since this is a tale we've all heard. This has got to be that valley trap Browder an' that first batch of freed slaves told us about last spring. It's just about the right spot in the Plains, the description of the terrain matches, an' these slain weasel types look like they could be those villainous cannibals. It all adds up. That's wot this place has got to be."

Buckalew straightened in alarm. "Then we gotta be outta here, 'fore they try an' put us out an' scoff us too!"

"Don't think that's much of a worry anymore, Lew. Most of the descriptions we heard of this place hold true, except there's one thing missing." Clewiston swept his arm around him. "Remember the survivors' account of how there was always a mist hangin' over this valley, even on sunny days? No mists now. Doesn't look like those sleep-making vapors are bein' pumped up here anymore." He toed at the Flitch-aye-aye corpse at his feet. "An if these were the ones who conjured it, that would explain why."

"But, why the Gawtrybe?" Pumphrey wondered. "Wot would one group of rotters have to do with the other?"

"We knew about the Flitchamacallits here, thanks to Browder an' the slaves' encounter with 'em," said Clewiston. "An' so did Urthblood."

The others absorbed the implications of the Colonel's supposition. "You think ol' Bloodface dispatched a crew of those bowstring-twangers to wipe out these subterranean hooligans once an' for all?" Peppertail asked.

"Makes as much sense as anything, Pepp. Except that if some of those poor wretches here didn't die from Gawtrybe arrows, it may not've been just his squirrels Urthblood sent to do the job. Think about it: if you've got a whole tribe of barbarians dug in an' entrenched deep underground, how would you drive 'em up where they could be shot at like the ones up above? Why wouldn't they just sit tight where they were?"

"You're sayin' somebeast went down an' rousted them out," the Sergeant surmised.

"P'raps ... tho', that still wouldn't account for why some died by arrows an' some didn't, or why the bodies up top've been cleaned almost to th' bone while these haven't. Could be somethin' a lot more nefarious went on here than just a massacre by blade 'n' shaft."

"All due respect, sir," broached Pumphrey, "but why's a bunch of cowardly cannibals gettin' wot was coming to them any great concern of ours right now, of all times? Every moment we dally here, those Gawtrybe who took Lattie're openin' up a lead again."

"Wot happened here needs to be reported back to Redwall," Clewiston snapped off, "'specially if it's wot I think may've happened, an' that means gettin' all the facts we can. I'm hardly worried about those bushtails getting too far ahead; these are the open Plains, not the forest, an' there's no way we gallopers won't be able to close that gap in a trice, once we commit ourselves to the chase again."

"Seems a shame, though, breakin' off when we almost had 'em," Buckalew lamented as he ambled off in frustration, gaze on the far valley lip and not really looking where he placed his footpaws. "Even if it's just for a brief break of our - yeaaagh!"

The others spun around at Buckalew's cry of surprised distress and saw ... nothing. "By my eye," Pumphrey declared, "Lew's gone an' fallen down a hole."

"Holes 'round this place might not be anything to take lightly, even if those who dug them are all dead 'n' gone," Clewiston cautioned. "Let's hope that wasn't a deep well, or any kind of trap."

They all hastened to the moss-and-grass-obscured opening through which Buckalew had plummeted. Upon inspection it proved to be a fairly vertical shaft sunk into the valley floor, a simple inverted chimney of sorts, quite straightforward in design if not in purpose, and only just wide enough for a single creature to have fallen into. Fears of losing a member of their party to a lethally deep well eased as they realized they could make out Buckalew in the darkness below, struggling gamely at the bottom of the narrow pit.

"Could use some of the Guosim's flippin' rope right about now," Peppertail muttered.

"Not sure it'd be long enuff t' reach." Clewiston cupped his paws to his mouth. "Hullo down there, Lew! You all in one piece after that tumble?"

"Goin' down was nice 'n' soft, bouncin' off these mossy walls," the junior hare called up. "Wish I could say th' blinkin' same for my landing. Some inconsiderate rudebeast left a whole pile o' broken crockery down here. Think it opened a gash on my bum."

"Is there any other way out down there? Any side passage, or branch-off?"

"Not that I can see or feel, sah. Looks like it's just a straight well straight down, only no water to be drowned ... or found, I mean. If I can get a good 'nuff pawhold on these protrudin' roots, I oughta be able to climb back out by m'self. Just gimme a few ticks here ... "

"Figures," Pumphrey remarked of his old comrade. "One moment he's chunnerin' on about how much time this stop's costin' us, then he goes an' does somethin' that'll cost us even more time!"

"I hadn't planned on leaving here just yet anyway, even if I hadn't planned on losin' a hare to a hole in the ground either." Clewiston turned to the others. "Sergeant, you an' th' rest scout around, see if there are any more of these backward chimneys to be found, or any other openings of note. Reports were, these Flitchymagummies were fond of hidden an' disguised hatchways down into their domain. Let's see if we can't uncover a few of 'em, wot? I'll wait here with Pumphrey to give Lew a paw up if he needs one."

By the time Buckalew had clawed and scrambled and kicked his way up out of his pitfall, no fewer than three other similar shafts had been found, along with a cleverly-concealed trapdoor opening to a wider, downward-sloping passage; this last was easier to spot due to the trio of Flitch-aye-aye corpse clustered around the secret egress, one of which lay half-in and half-out of the entryway, the mossy hatch propped partway ajar by the fallen creature.

"Wotever happened here happened fast," Peppertail deduced. "Blighter couldn't even get all the way out of his rathole 'fore he fell dead in his bally tracks."

Back at the first shaft, Clewiston and Pumphrey took a look at Buckalew's injured backside. "That's a right ugly gash you got there, Lew chappie," the Colonel observed. "And thanks to that messy climb out, it's both bloody and dirty. Gotta get that cleaned out and dressed. Yo ho, Fawks! Over here, if you're done pokin' at holes in th' ground!"

Fawkwell, the most accomplished healer of their present company and the one bearing their meager medical supplies, jogged over at the Colonel's summons. Taking stock of the wounded hare himself, he immediately agreed with Clewiston's prognosis. Unstopping his canteen and producing a fresh kerchief, he set to cleansing the area around Buckalew's scut, rinsing and wiping away the dirt and grime to more fully reveal the extent of the injury.

Pumphrey stood looking on, somewhat alarmed by Fawkwell's liberal use of water. "Have a care with that, Fawks. You'll be needing some o' that for wettin' your own bally whistle later on, once we get marchin' again."

Fawkwell all but ignored his complaining cohort as he rinsed off and swabbed at his patient's posterior gash, eliciting winces and flinches from Buckalew. "Canteens can be refilled, chum; right now my healer's needs outweigh any future thirst, don'tcha know."

"Yah, dunno wot you're goin' on about, Pums," Buckalew put in. "I'm the one whose tush has been laid open to public inspection, wot? Quite embarrassin' an' humiliatin' - hardly befitting future officer material, hm?"

While Pumphrey sniggered at his old friend's delusions of regimental grandeur, Fawkwell took a more serious tack. "On th' subject of your bum, Lew, you couldn'ta gone an' lacerated yourself in a worse place. Any dressing I apply is likely to come off once we get underway again, unless I use up just about all the bandages I have with me. It'll surely be aggravated by just th' kind of exertions we've been doin'. 'Fraid this might put you out of th' runnin', in the most literal sense."

"Oh, say it ain't so, Fawksy! Can't let a minor scratch like this sideline me, an' leave all the glory to you lazyscuts! I'm in this for th' full bally haul, so don't go countin' me out yet!"

Fawkwell grimaced. "Judgin' by the amount of blood seepin' from this gash, I'd say your 'minor scratch' could use stitches. Unfortunately, that'll hafta wait 'til we're back at Redwall, because I didn't bring along anything to stitch a fellow up on th' fly. Run on it if you insist, but I can tell you right now, the results won't be pretty."

"Sorry, Lew, but I've gotta go with wot our medico says," Clewiston told the injured hare. "Much as I'd love to have you in this fight with us, if just racin' to catch up to those rednecked ruffians is going to wreck you, it's best for ev'rybeast that you stay behind. You can wait here, down 'n' outta sight, an' we'll collect you on th' way back, once we've got Lattie. That'll give you time for some healing, as well as keepin' yourself from overstrainin' an' makin' a right mess of yourself."

"That'll teach ya t' go fallin' down holes!" Pumphrey chided his companion, then turned to Clewiston. "But, sir, d'you truly reckon it's safe for a solitary beast here? What if some of those mouse-scoffin' slimeballs're still lurkin' down belowground?"

"That's something I'm hopin' to have answered one way or the other before heading back to Redwall. But it can't be now, with the Gawtrybe hoofin' it away from us. We need to be off again, to settle this once and for all!"

Just then, one of the Sparra swooped down to them, circling tightly just above their heads. "Manygulls, manygulls, coming fromwest, overmountains!"

"How many?" Clewiston asked.

"Maybehundred. Bigflock, bigflock!" And with that, the Redwall bird shot off again.

Peppertail's brow furrowed, and his wasn't the only one. "You s'pose they plan on stickin' themselves 'tween us an' the Gawtrybe?"

"I'd lay my scut on the line that's exactly wot they're plannin'. Looks like we shouldn't've stopped here after all, between losin' Lew to that hole an' now this. But if we stir our stumps an' eat up ground like only seasoned runners of the Patrols can, we may still have a hope of overtaking those brushtails while we have a clear crack at them. If those nastygulls 're still only just clearing the mountains, it may take some time yet before they get here - an' if we can have Matowick's gang firmly in custody by then, even Urthblood's battle gulls might think twice before attacking us!"


	14. Chapter 86

**CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX**

Even as the six healthy Long Patrol mustered to charge up out of the valley of the Flitch-aye-aye to resume and accelerate their chase, the gulls who'd shadowed the divided rescue party all morning engaged in a shocking and abrupt change of tactics, dropping from their higher altitude to plow into the Sparra flock like white thunderbolts, casting into disarray the flight patterns of the avian Abbey escorts. In some instances they rammed right into the smaller birds with aggressive bodily collisions, sending the Sparra into panicky, fluttering downward spirals; in others, went for the Redwallers with savage pecks at eyes, wings, tails and any other spot which might cause distress. The sparrows, finding themselves so suddenly and unexpectedly besieged, rallied to evade their attackers, being nimbler and more maneuverable than the brutish seabirds, but the gulls gave chase, intent upon harrying their targets into a full disengagement and retreat ... which left the Sparra fully occupied with this new predicament, to the exclusion of all else.

The Long Patrol didn't even notice this development, their attention focused on the Gawtrybe ahead of them. The trailing party of Alex and Sodexo and the Guosim did notice, but realized they could do little to aid their feathered allies. The gulls took care to limit their harassment to heights above slingstone range, leaving the Sparra no choice but to fly much lower to the ground - which largely nullified their effectiveness as any sort of long-range surveillance force - or else remain at their present altitude and open themselves to the continued predations of the bullying gulls.

One gull who dipped too low suffered a pierced wing from one of Alexander's launched shafts; after that the rest knew not to venture too close to the red-furred archerbeast.

And meanwhile, to the west, the main force of Urthblood's gulls dispatched from Salamandastron winged its way ever closer, darkening one small stretch of the horizon.

00000000000

"Hey, Bird Bird! What's for breakfast? I'm gettin' hungry!"

Klystra had let Latura sleep well past sunrise, welcoming the respite from her flighty, nattering nincompoopery. But now the full brightness of the day roused her to pesky wakefulness, the prolonged night's rest having rejuvenated her after the previous day's forced run.

Sighing, the falcon dug into his travel pouch once more, pulling out another batch of hardtack for the ratmaid to break her fast. Latura accepted it, making a face and sticking out her tongue. "Yuck! This agin? Don't want this - 's like eatin' wood!"

"Is all we have. Eat, or don't. Your choice."

Latura ruefully regarded the bland biscuit. "Want a bilberry muffin, or some acorn crunch, or maple honey scones. Hey, Cap'n Feathers! Think you could fly back t' Redwall an' pick up some fer us?"

"Prefer fish for breakfast. For lunch and dinner too. But no fish for me, no Abbeyfood for you. Hardtack until Salamandastron, for us both."

"Oh poo." Latura sat down on the grass, gnawing on her only breakfast option. Glancing about her, she declared, "This place's boring. Fly me somewhere else, Feathers!"

"We stay put here until Gawtrybe catch up, or until ordered to move you further on. This is no game. Don't like scenery? Close eyes and sleep again."

"Aw, ye're no more fun than that nightbird who stopped by last night!"

"Mm hm."

Absently forcing herself to finish the flavorless rations, Latura gazed idly at the rolling Plains and wide sky about her, when suddenly distant movement on the horizon made her stand up again. "Ooo, look!"

Klystra twisted his head around, and quickly spotted the approaching gull flock which had captured his prisoner's attention. The falcon clacked his beak in enthusiastic approval; during his last nocturnal consultation with Saugus, the owl captain had made mention of both the Gawtrybe pushing on through the night and the possibility of avian reinforcements from Salamandastron, but Klystra had not expected such a large force as now winged its way toward them.

Together they watched as the gull squadron ate up the aerial distance between the mountains and their own position in the midst of the Plains, and then the attack birds were overhead and passing.

"Birdies!" Latura squealed in delight at the majestic sight, clueless to the fact that they pushed their way eastward expressly to engage her rescuers.

"Yes. Birdies," Klystra agreed, unable to think of any more appropriate response to his charge's imbecilic glee.

And then they were past, flapping onward without so much as a squawk of acknowledgment directed Klystra's way. "Aw, they're gone," the ratmaid lamented. "Think they'll come back?"

"Yes. Think they will." Klystra turned himself around to face east, and the battle to come.

00000000000

One thing Browder and Tibball discovered they shared in common was a most un-Long Patrolish tendency to sleep well past sunrise whenever circumstances allowed. Thus is was that the hare and the rabbit found themselves heading up to the west walltop with their plates of pancakes and scones to join Melanie, Givadon and Mizagelle for a late breakfast under the spring sky.

"Well hullo there, sleepyheads!" Mizagelle greeted, bouncing Chevelle on her knee as her sister and mother did likewise with Faylona and Lysander. "Was beginning to think we'd not see you at all before noon!"

Melanie welcomed the delinquent pair of late-risers with considerably less cheer. "Not sure how any hare could rest so easy, given wot's at stake."

"Oh, yes, uh, er ... " Browder, careful not to tip his fully-laden plate, took the place on the stone wall bench his wife scooted aside to clear for him. "Well, consid'rin' all the ruckus an' body-tirin' comings-and-goings that went on here yesterday - largely instigated an' executed by these innocent-looking troublemakers here - is it hardly surprisin' a harried haredad might catch an extra jolly long snooze to refresh himself after all that?"

"Funny, I don't recall seeing you exerting yourself nearly as hard during yesterday's crisis as Clewy, or Sergeant Peppertail, or any of the other hares and shrews who are out on the Western Plains this very moment, seeking redress for the wrong that was done to Redwall."

"Yah, well, Mel m'gel, 'tis oft been said, and by better hares than I, that I lack a soldierbeast's constitution, and I'll not deny it. Let those that can do, and th' rest of us stand strong to bear witness an' remember their bravery, wot?"

Givadon snorted, while Melanie contented herself with looking away dismissively.

Tibball, meanwhile, had chosen to seat himself on the outside of this gathering, next to Givadon and separated from Browder by all the others. He displayed a similar care with his full plate, but more obvious abashedness over Melanie's mild rebuke on their late showing. In all his days at the Abbey so far, Tibball remained somewhat nebulous concerning the precise relationship and standing between Browder and the other hares. That Browder was not a member of the Long Patrol had been apparent at once, in spite of the thespian hare's marriage to a runner and haremum of that esteemed military force. But Browder was anything but a fighter, and in this sense Tibball felt a certain kinship with him; while the actual Long Patrol left the rabbit somewhat intimidated due to his awe of their reputation and legend, Browder was ... well, just Browder, and not exactly anybeast a fellow could become starry-eyed over. That left the player easier to relate to as an equal, even while he could still be hare-ishly admired. A member of the same species as the renowned Long Patrol, but not of the Patrols themselves, and thus more on Tibball's own level.

As to Browder's exact standing with the Long Patrol, this issue left Tibball in more than a little confusion. He'd heard of treachery committed by Browder while serving the other hares' mortal enemy, but nobeast had as yet fully explained just what that treachery was, and Browder hardly struck Tibball as the treacherous type, with his stitched ear and frequently hapless demeanor which was half pompous buffoon and half forlorn misfit. And if there really was such bad blood between them, how had Browder ever managed to woo and wed into the Patrols? The whole affair left Tibball exceedingly trepidatious and tentative as to just how fully he ought to embrace Browder, or to openly seek out and welcome the solitary hare's company and companionship.

It was hardly the kind of situation - and conundrum - he'd expected to encounter at Redwall.

"Has there been any word from the Sparra about - well, about what's happening out there?" Tibball inquired of the harewives, nodding over the parapet toward the Plains.

"Not a peep," answered Givadon. "Sun might be out an' shining bright as you could want, but we're still in the bally dark!"

"Well, there y' go then!" Browder declared with forced cheer. "If they'd met with any kind of diabolical disaster, those flighty featherpests would've been back here in two flippin' flaps to report it, wot? No news is good news, an' all that. A sure sign that nothing's amiss, wouldn't you say?"

The others showed little inclination to buy into Browder's puffed-up pep. "They'd have flown back here to report if their efforts had met with success, too, " Melanie pointed out.

"Oh. Right, I s'pose. Which can only mean the mission's still ongoing, with heroics an' derring-do yet to be fully realized. Hardly reason for gloominess, hm?"

Mizagelle patted her husband on the knee. "That's wot I like about you, Browds - always looking on the bright side of things! Cheer 'n' optimism's wot we need right now, and I'll take any reminder of that we can get!"

Buoyed by this spousal support, Browder looked to the leverets. "Kinda hard not to be cheery in your outlook, when you live at Redwall. That's wot this place is all about, even in times like these. So, how're our terrible tykes this fine morn? No lastin' trauma from wasp stings, smoke chuffing or pond water down the old pipes?"

"Arlyn and Metellus gave them all a clean bill of health," Melanie replied, "thank fates an' seasons. Our two healers certainly had their paws full with yesterday's pandemonium. I'd wager Redwall suffered more wasp stings in one day than in all its prior seasons put together!"

"Maybe," Givadon allowed. "Now that our dear old Abbess is back to her proper wits, wonder if she'll take over the Infirmary again?"

"She sure took it over yesterday," Mizagelle commented. "An' four dead rats to show for it!"

"Derrats!" Lysander gleefully parroted, always looking for any opportunity to flex his fledgling verbal skills.

Browder and Tibball both grimaced at the harebabe's rather bloodthirsty choice of phrase to echo. "Er, yes, that. Let's have a care wot we're lettin' these tots of ours pick up, eh wot?"

Disregarding Browder's squeamish profession of parental caution, Melanie picked up on her daughter's speculation. "Yes, and it seems our Recorder and Badgermum are the only ones Vanessa's taken into her confidence about wot's really going on with her. They've all been rather stiff-spined an' tight-lipped ever since emerging from the study last night - in fact, there they are now down in the orchard, just the three of 'em, plotting 'n' hatching who knows wot schemes. Somebeast has got to get to the bottom of all this; we can't have our Abbey leaders keeping secrets from the rest of us."

"But, if she's really back t' fully bein' Abbess now, don't we hafta follow her lead?" Givadon asked. "I mean, if she's plannin' things, well, isn't it the place of the jolly Abbot or Abbess to plan things for all of us? As long as it doesn't go against Redwall or endanger or harm this Abbey in any way, shouldn't we all just stand back an' support her an' let her be Abbess?"

"That's assuming she's fit to be Abbess. She's already made some unpopular decisions, and demonstrated some questionable behavior."

"She's sure fit to swing a sword," Mizagelle offered, "or wotever it was she did to those rats yesterday. If she's not fit to serve as Abbess, maybe she can try out as Redwall's next Champion!"

"Rather see her return to bein' Infirmary keeper, assuming she remembers all the proper lore for it," Melanie said. "Although I daresay she'll need to polish up her bedside manner a bit, as far as any rat patients go. But I'm sure Arlyn and Metellus would welcome her back. It's hardly fair, placing such a burden on an old retired Abbot and a badger far from his adult seasons."

"We might need all three of them, depending on wot state our rescuers are in when they get back," Givadon put in. "Pity they're too far out into the Plains now to glimpse 'em. It'd be nice t' know how things're goin'. Maybe some of the Sparra who stayed behind could fly out to scope out wot's happening with everyballybeast. You'd think they'd want to know how their own featherfriends 're faring, wouldn't you?"

"We're all on tenterhooks about this, Givvy, an' will be until our loved ones are safely back through our gates - ideally with one ratmaid in tow." Melanie nodded toward a spot just down the walltop from them, where Hekko and Bostany stood gazing out over the battlements to the west. "Look at those two - wife and daughter of a peaceable honey trader who also happens to be a Badger Lord of southern Mossflower. They came here thinking this would be a nice little Abbey vacation of sorts, expectin' no trials 'n' tribulations at all, an' now their patriarch's off on a quest that ends nobeast knows how. That badgermaid's been at nothing but loggerheads with her parents since arriving here, not even caring to be seen with them, and now she an' her mum are joined at the bally hip, waiting to see how this all plays out and hoping for the best. I tell you this: With such selfless and stalwart allies as this Abbey has in that badger, Redwall will never want for worthy supporters in times of need."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Givadon admitted. "They were just here for a bloomin' holiday, an' as honored guests too. Nobeast would've thought any less of 'em if they'd decided to stay outta this. We're Redwallers, an' the Long Patrol too, so we were bound to act on this - even if our newly-restored Abbess warned us not to. The badger brute went above 'n' beyond the call of duty when he volunteered to join the bally chase."

"We could use a chap like that back on the throne of Salamandastron," Mizagelle added with a sigh.

This voiced sentiment, clearly shared by everybeast present (or, if not quite everybeast, at least Tibball and Browder had the good sense not to air any dissent), cast a contemplative silence over the group as they fondly reflected back on what they'd had with Lord Urthfist, and what they could know again someday under a true and proper Lord of the Mountain.

Melanie broke the spell at last. "We'll wait until Clewy and Alexander return, and see how their party fared. Then we'll decide wot to do about Vanessa, if anything, once we've got a fuller slate of Abbey leaders here than we do now. Something like that, the more heads the better."

Farther along the walltop to the other side, Cyril and Smallert stood with Jiriel, who in turn was sticking close to Elmwood. As an avid and accomplished archer herself, the mousemaid had formed a fast friendship with the squirrels of Redwall's Forest Patrol, and Alexander's inclusion in the rescue expedition concerned her as much as it did the other archerbeasts who called Alex their chief.

"Think he'll make it back okay?" she murmured.

"'Course he will," Elmwood assured her, although his tone carried less confidence than his words. "This is Alex we're talking about. Besides, he's got Lady Mina waiting for him here, and that's enough to get any red-blooded malebeast to make sure he makes it back!"

Cyril, showing perhaps less tact than he could have, said, "Although the way things are going between them lately, I'm not sure how true that is anymore. I mean, he did choose to go after Latura instead of staying at Mina's side in the Infirmary."

Elmwood mulled this over. "You know, in spite of all that, I think he still does love her, and she him. That's what makes this whole thing so hard for them. Events have conspired to let conflicting loyalties and clashing philosophies intrude and come between them. Their feelings for each other haven't changed, but everything else has."

"I may be a bit of an outsider in all this," Jiriel said, "so maybe it's not my place, but it seems to me Mina's the only one with conflicted loyalties. Alex has always been a Redwaller to the core, and this Abbey will always come first for him. His wife's the one who has to decide whether she wants to be a Redwaller, or place her loyalty elsewhere."

Elmwood nodded in appreciation of her candor. "Well said, lass, Sometimes an outsider's eyes see the clearest of all."

"And the strife between them's hardly over," Cyril added. "If the rescue expedition fails, Alex might find it hard to forgive her, and if it succeeds in bringing Latura back safely, it'll set them against each other all over again. I mean, she did try to kill Lattie! Might she try to do it again? Or will Urthblood try to snatch Lattie some other way, or even move against Redwall more openly, as the Abbess fears? In some ways, rescuing that rat might cause more trouble than if we fail."

"There is that," Elmwood admitted. "Although the group we have out on this chase aren't ones to fail easily. The Long Patrol, the Guosim, Alexander himself ... throw in a Badger Lord and our Sparra, and I'd say those Gawtrybe have met their match and then some. And after hearing from the Sparra last evening how Sodexo took care of that line of Northland shrews, I'd say Matowick won't stand a chance once we catch up to him. With their arrows all honeyed-up thanks to Vanessa, they'd best just give Lattie over if they know what's good for them!"

Jiriel expressed her skepticism at such a prospect. "I've never met this Lord Urthblood, but I've met his shrews outside these walls with no Abbey mores imposed on them, and I've seen the Gawtrybe under such conditions too, and I don't picture that badger and his forces seeing themselves as ones to fail either. He risked open strife with Redwall, first over the Purge itself and now with Latura, and I think that right there says how far they're willing to go. His squirrels were about ready to slay Lord Sodexo during our journey here when they thought he was prying too much and asking too many unwelcome questions; I can only imagine what they'll do if we try to take Latura back by force!"

"Yes, but we outnumber them," Elmwood reminded her. "Six squirrels, stuck on open, unsheltered plains without even the benefit of their bows, up against our combined force. And with a prisoner slowing them down, I don't see how they'll keep from being overtaken long before they reach the mountain range, much less Salamandastron itself. I'd say that puts the odds in our favor, no matter how formidable Urthblood's fighters are at close combat, or how dedicated to their cause."

Jiriel's gaze travelled down along the ramparts to where Pirkko stood with his pals Droge and Budsock, all three staring intently out toward the Western Plains as if their shared scrutiny could safely and successfully recall the shrewlad's father from his quest. "I hope you're right, sir, because it seems almost everybeast at Redwall has a personal stake in this desperate measure."

Cyril looked to his weasel friend. "What's your take on this, Smallert? You're the only one here who's ever served directly under Lord Urthblood. How do you see things turning out?"

The one-eared weasel considered his words. "Well, not meanin' to throw cold water on ev'rybeast's hopes, but one thing I c'n say is that that badger wants what 'ee wants, an' if he sets 'is sights on a goal he deems important 'nuff, he usually gets it. An' pore Lattie seems pretty important to 'im. I'd not be surprised at anything he pulls t' make this turn out 'is way."

The others digested his comments, and then held their silence even after that, for what more was there to say?

And so all the onlookers along every stretch of the walltop - hare, squirrel, mouse, shrew, badger, hedgehog and weasel - continued their morning vigil, gazing west with all the hope against hope they could muster.

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"Is it safe to talk here?"

Vanessa replied with a nod. "I hear what Redwall hears, Maura. If anybeast comes within earshot - or, for that matter, tries to read my lips or decipher in some other manner what we're saying - I'll know it."

Winokur digested this. "That is ... somewhat scary. If you don't mind my saying ... "

"Not at all. If the three of us can't speak freely between ourselves after last night, then I don't know if anybeasts can."

It was almost as if the other Abbeybeasts knew not to intrude upon the Abbess, Badgermum and Recorder as they sat in the shade of the orchard's fringes, holding court amongst the three of them as they looked on at the comings and goings of everybeast around them. Their proximity to the sprawling rat encampment may have helped discourage the woodlander segment of Redwall's present population from approaching idly or without urgent need, but the rats themselves also hesitated, giving Vanessa a wide berth after the previous afternoon's Infirmary incident. Thus did the mouse, badger and otter have their small outdoor table to themselves, free to confer and discuss the matters of the moment.

"So," Winokur broached, "how _are_ things going out on the Western Plains? Everybeast here is wondering, and wants to know ... "

"I wouldn't mind knowing for myself," Maura added in her typically earthy manner.

"You mean just at the moment?" Vanessa allowed herself a slight smile. "I'm good, but I'm not that good. Events unfolding in the lands abroad aren't always clear or open to me, even when Redwallers are involved. I can catch glimpses, or perhaps a general feeling or impression, but it's not like these incidents play out right in front of me, before my eyes. All I can say, regarding our ill-advised rescuers, is that they have yet to either succeed or fail - which is pretty much what everybeast has already figured out on their own. Once the situation tips one way or the other, then I might know more. Until then, I see only the grayness of possibilities unrealized."

"And what of Latura?" probed Winokur. "What can you see of her?"

"See? Not much. Feel? That is a different matter."

"And what do you ... feel?" Maura prompted.

"She's fighting me. She's fighting both of us. Urthblood pulls at her, willing her forward to Salamandastron, even as I push, urging her onward to the coast, and her fate. But she is powerful, a kind of wild power I have never seen before, and she resists us both, perhaps without realizing she does so. It may be she will never make it to stand before Urthblood at all, and all our planning and preparations - his and mine both - will amount to nothing. This play is still being written, and I am not about to predict the outcome."

Winokur seemed to take some silent satisfaction over the prophetic ratmaid so disrupting the plans of creatures and spirits seeking either to destroy her or to make her their puppet, but Maura displayed a more mercenary attitude. "So, what do we do?"

"Do?" Vanessa seemed about to laugh, and it would not have been a mirthful one. "What can be done has been done. This is Latura we're talking about. The pieces have been set in motion, but the central piece possesses a stubborn, uncontrollable will of its own. She may yet be delivered before Urthblood, or she may not ... and it has nothing to do with the group from Redwall chasing after her. But if this wild shot of mine goes wide, I cannot predict where it will land, or what will happen. Latura has it within her to cause upheaval to the lands on a scale equal to anything Urthblood himself could bring about, and if his blade fails to find her, I suspect she will not be anybeast's to master."

"So, when will we know?" Winokur asked.

"We'll know when we know. Obviously, if our batch of questors succeeds or fails, we'll know it when they come back through our gates - or, more likely, somewhat before that, since the Sparra are likely to precede them, bearing advance word of the outcome. But if they return without Latura, that's still no guarantee of how things will go. Will she make it to Salamandastron, and if so, will Urthblood act toward her as I anticipate?" Vanessa shrugged. "These things will only be revealed in time."

"Yes, but revealed how?" Winokur pressed. "If Urthblood slays Latura, will you know of it? If he fails to do so, will you somehow sense it? And if fate determines to deposit her somewhere other than the destination you and Urthblood have chosen for her, will you be able to follow her progress and know where she goes? I guess what I'm saying is, how will we know when the deed is done?"

"Latura is like a pebble constantly thrown, always disturbing the calm surface of the next world. As long as she inhabits this one, I will detect her presence, if not her exact state or location. If events unfold as I believe they will, I do not know whether I will perceive the moment of her demise. Will it be a pinprick upon my awareness, or a cataclysm fit to knock me off my footpaws - or will the moment pass entirely unnoticed by me? I may not recognize the exact moment, but I will certainly notice her absence once she is gone.

"As for what the inhabitants of this living world will see, Latura's sacrifice will become plainly evident for all to behold when Urthblood's power starts to crumble. His followers should see it almost at once; indecision where there used to be certainty; incompetence where there used to be mastery; blindness where there used to be foresight; and questioning where there used to be unwavering loyalty. By this time next season, he will no longer rule Salamandastron, or anything else."

"But then Tratton will take it," Winokur warned.

"Tratton can have it. That place won't be fit for decent creatures for a long time. Not after Urthblood."

"And if Latura never makes it to the mountain?" queried Maura. "Then we'll still have Urthblood, who you insist is the greatest threat of all, still commanding his myriad forces, as well as Tratton maintaining his naval power, and then Latura on top of that, running around unleashing Martin only knows what chaos ... um, I mean ... "

Vanessa turned a bemused smile upon the Badgermum. "But Martin doesn't know. Not this time." Her smile faded to a mask of thoughtful intensity. "And now I think we had best change the subject to the weather, or perhaps what Friar Hugh has planned for lunch. Somebeast's coming."

Maura and Winokur tore their attention away from the conversation to behold one of the ratlads, apparently egged on by some of his peers, breaking away from the main rat encampment and approaching the three seated Abbey leaders with tremulous steps. Halting a few paces from them, he nervously ventured, "Excuse me, Brother Otter sir, but are we gonna have any classes t'day? My friends 'n' me were wondr'rin' ... "

Winokur showed surprise at this request. "Well, there's an awful lot going on, and I really don't think - "

"Would you like to have classes?" Vanessa asked the young rat, cutting off the otter Recorder.

The youth shot her an apprehensive look, but continued to address Winokur. "I really think we oughta, sir. It'd help take our minds off Lattie, an' you've allers got just th' right story fer ev'ry occasion. Mebbe you c'n tell us a story that'd help make sense o' what's goin' on now."

"I think that's a splendid idea." Vanessa cast an admiring look upon Wink. "Brother Winokur knows all of Redwall's stories - at least the ones that are fit to tell. I'm sure he can come up with a good one for today."

"Well, Abbess, if you insist ... "

Vanessa turned back to the rat. "See? This can be a fine place for everybeast, can't it?"

The ratlad continued to pointedly ignore her, and it was plain what he was thinking.

"Come here."

The rat eyed her, but stood his ground.

"Come on - I don't bite."

"You slay rats," the ratchild said in a voice too small to be fully accusing.

"I slay enemies of this Abbey. And I will slay anybeast who threatens the family of Redwall. Do _you_ want to be part of the Redwall family?"

"You sent Lattie away ... "

"No, I only tricked her into going outside, in a friendly game of tag. Urthblood's the one who took her away, and means her harm. He means you all harm. None of you would be here at all if it wasn't for his Purge. And I am sworn to protect you all, as long as you obey Redwall's simple rules and dwell among us in peace."

"You didn't protect Lattie."

"No. No, I didn't. And while I hardly expect you to understand today, you must believe me when I say that allowing Urthblood to take Latura was part of protecting all of you too."

"I ... don't understand."

"Of course you don't. And your parents and elders don't either. But that doesn't make it untrue. Now come closer, so I can tell you something very important."

Winokur and Maura both nodded encouragement, even if they weren't sure themselves what the mouse had in mind. "Go on," the otter Recorder gently urged. "It's all right."

Hesitancy in every step, the young creature forced himself to comply, until he stood close enough for the seated Abbess to reach out and rest a paw on his shoulder - which is exactly what Vanessa did.

"I want you to stay here," she earnestly told the ratchild. "You, and all your friends, and your families - and yes, even Harth and his fighters too, as long as they can bring themselves to behave. These are dangerous times for your species - times I do not approve of, and had no paw in shaping. I would have stopped Urthblood long before it came to this, had such been within my power. But it wasn't, so now I will do the next best thing, which is to grant sanctuary to the creatures he would persecute and banish from their own lands, and deliver into hardships unimaginable. As long as this Accord of his persists - as long as he pursues his Purge of your kind - we will shelter as many of you as we are able, and stand in opposition to his actions. We will welcome you as part of our community - and as part of Redwall, you will be safer than anywhere else. As part of Redwall, if Urthblood moves against you, he moves against all of us. And we know how to fight to protect our own."

"You say you want us as part o' yer family, but I betcher you don't even know my name, do you?"

Vanessa put on an air of theatrical umbrage. "Now, what kind of Abbess would I be if I didn't know the names of those under my care, Tristan?"

The ratlad seemed startled at being proven wrong, but then, as Vanessa's mischievous, conspiratorial smile worked on him, he smiled too. This Abbess, this power of Redwall, may have been many things - protector of the vanquished, slayer of rats, conscience of goodbeasts - but she knew his name. The Abbess knew his name!

And that made all the difference in the world.

"Now go run along and have a good lesson with Brother Winokur. I know he enjoys sharing his stories with you almost as much as you enjoy hearing them. And make sure you tell all your friends: I want you all to stay here. I want you to be safe. I want you to be part of Redwall."

"Yes, Abbess! I'll tell them! You c'n be sure I will!"

As otter and rat ambled off, Vanessa noticed the Badgermum staring hard at her. "Yes, Maura, what is it?"

"That was uncanny to witness. Your little pep talk to Tristan - it was far more than just a pep talk, wasn't it? You were using your ... influence on him, weren't you?"

"Naturally. Our rat guests need to have their minds put at ease - and where better to start than with their young ones?"

"Hmmm. Was it even his own idea to wander over here to speak with Wink in the first place?"

"I'll leave that for you to ponder." Vanessa gave Maura a knowing smile. "But I notice you now remember his name too!"


	15. Chapter 87

**CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN**

While half the force of marauding gulls continued to harry and harass the Sparra, the other half disengaged from their smaller avian adversaries to swoop down upon the Long Patrol unit, opening a preliminary engagement with the long-eared runnerbeasts ahead of the main gull squadron's arrival. It was a miscalculation which would prove lethal for some of them.

Striking in scattershot fashion with no real coordination, the gulls attacked in staggered order, a mistake which allowed their hare foe to rally against them most effectively. The first gull zoomed down from the left, catching Fawkwell unaware and sending him tumbling to the ground. But even as the bird pressed its advantage, pouncing upon the fallen hare with stabbing beak, Peppertail whirled and reflexively launched his lance for all he was worth, taking the seabird through the breast and slaying it on the spot. As he and Pumphrey raced to the aid of the shaken but unharmed Fawkwell, Clewiston and his immediate companions Leftwick and Pledger spun to greet the second incoming gull with a rude welcome of flashing spears and blades. Their united front was enough to beat off the aggressor, even as Clewiston broke off to take on a third descending gull.

And behind it, yet more seagulls were dropping out of the sky to join the fray.

Fawkwell shook off his fleeting daze as Peppertail yanked his lance free of the slain gull, wiping it on the grass with a few deft and practiced swipes to render it pristine for its next target. Thus broken up into two more traditional patrol groups of three hares apiece, the double trio formed into a pair of shoulder-to-shoulder defensive knots, aimed outward to ward off incursions from any direction and leaving no unprotected blind spot.

"These winged nuisances aren't waitin' for the jolly main event, wot?" declared Leftwick.

"That they're not," answered Pledger. "An' this's only half th' blighters - other wretched half's still up skyward, keepin' our feathered Abbey friends too busy an' on the bally fly to spare us any aid. Divide an' conquer, looks like."

"'Cept they're divided too, chaps," Clewiston reminded the two younger hares as he smashed his spear across the bill of an encroaching gull. "An' they've taken casualties before we did, in case you missed the Sergeant's stellar throw. An' if they're intent on pressin' this, let's see if we can't make 'em take a few more, wot! Just imagine we're back on coastal patrol like in the good old days, when we hadta put these squawkin' bullies in their place ev'ry once in a while, an' remind 'em why the Long Patrol aren't to be trifled with!"

"Wish Mizzy an' Givvy were here with us now," Pledger lamented, laying open a menacing webbed talon with his blade. "Could sure use their bow an' sling right about now - mebbe knock some o' these pillowstuffers right outta the sky!"

"We've got a squirrel comin' up behind us whose bow is worth more'n Mizzy 'n' Givvy put together," Clewiston said, feinting with his spear and driving back another gull through sheer intimidation. "Once he gets here, an' the Guosim add their slings to this jolly dance too, we'll scatter these flippin' feathervermin clear back to Salamandastron!"

Leftwick spared a glance to the west, and the much larger force of gulls yet to reach them. "Yah, but they're not here yet, sah. An' it looks like our enemy's apt to be strengthenin' their numbers long 'fore our own reinforcements arrive."

"Then we'll just hafta stand fast an' show 'em wot hare mettle's all about, Lefty!"

Across at the other outward-facing trio, Peppertail lunged, piercing a gull through the throat in a lethal parry. As the seabird fell dead, Pumphrey congratulated his sergeant. "Nice work there, Sarge! That's two for bally two!"

"Well, gotta show these rude fiends who's boss, don'tcha know!"

00000000000

Cresting a small rise in the rolling Plains, Alex caught his first glimpse of the besieged hares.

"We've got trouble," he informed Sodexo and the Guosim as they attained the slight ridge. "Or rather, our Long Patrol friends do. Those gulls aren't just harassing our Sparra; it looks like they're rallying against the Colonel's team too."

"An' a lot more t' come," Log-a-Log worried, eyes on the approaching main squadron. "Our hares might be able t' hold off the pesks who've been shadowin' us all morn, but that big flock's another kettle o' stew. They'll be overwhelmed through sheer numbers, an' pecked to death. Fact, might be all we c'n do t' hold 'em off, all of us t'gether."

"Then let us hold them off together," declared Sodexo, Palter still astride his shoulders in Latura's dress. "If we keep to a half-run between here and there, we should be able to render timely aid."

"Think we'd need more like a full-tilt hare's run," the shrew chieftain assessed. "That's a big lead they opened up 'tween us an' them, even with the time they spent pokin' 'round that big lowland up ahead - which we hafta get through now too. That monster flock looks t' be closin' fast - really eatin' up the sky like they mean serious business. We'll hafta bust our stumps t' reach the Colonel's group while we've still got any hope o' makin' a diff'rence."

"Unless the Colonel disengages and retreats back toward us," Alex offered hopefully.

"Clewy an' his Patrols? Disengage 'n' retreat? Dunno what hares those are ye're talkin' 'bout, Alex, but they ain't th' ones I know!"

Alex conceded Log-a-Log's point. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Which leaves us with Lord Sodexo's recommendation. Who here's up for a brisk morning run?"

00000000000

Captain Scarbatta flapped at the leading edge of his massive attack squadron, over a hundred birds strong, positioned to direct and coordinate his forces from the opening moments of engagement. His prominence in the forward aerial lines made it easier for the messenger from the Mossflower gulls to find him.

"Captain, Captain! Redwallers attack, Redwallers fight! They kill our gulls!"

"Gulls dying? How many?"

"Two, maybe three. Others take wounds. Long Patrols fight hardfierce, crawk!"

"Why you attack so soon, not wait for us?"

"Hares get too close to Gawtrybe, almost catch up, we intercept. You take too long to get here, could not wait."

Scarbatta flew into a fury at this aspersion cast upon his timeliness, stabbing at the impertinent messenger bird with an ill-tempered barrage of pecks that sent the unfortunate target of his wrath into a momentary downward spiral of chagrined panic. The gull captain righted himself into a stable flight pattern once more, even as his inner gorge consumed him. His fighters, dying at the paws of ground creatures intent on interfering with Lord Urthblood's mission for his Gawtrybe? Such an affront was not to be tolerated. Not at all.

"Change plans, change plans!" Scarbatta shrieked out to all his fellow gulls around him. "No contact, no close combat! Drop chains, drop chains, craaawwk!"

And then they were upon the Long Patrol.

00000000000

"Here they come!" Clewiston called out. "Stand fast an' look sharp, chaps! This's about to get hairier than a hare at full springtime shed!"

A fewscore paces away, Peppertail barked similar enjoinders to his own companions, and within moments all hare blades and spears tightened in their bearers' grips to meet the oncoming storm.

An advance gull from Scarbatta's squadron broke away and swooped low over the dozen or so still engaging the Long Patrol. "Clear, clear!" it cried, warning his fellow birds of the spur-of-the-moment change of strategy by their captain.

Behind him, a dozen battle gulls bore down upon their landbound targets. But instead of aiming low to directly combat the hares, they maintained an altitude just a few body lengths above the terrain. From underneath each hurtling bird was cast an iron whip of swinging chain, each chain ending with a wicked war implement that now arced toward the hares like a pendulum of death.

Clewiston spotted these unexpectedly-unleashed weapons with mere moments to spare. "Down!" he yelled, not leaving matters to his voice alone as he reached out to grab Leftwick and Pledger by their tunics to force them to the ground. Even as all three fell flat, the airborne armaments swept over them, so close that the wind of their passage ruffled the hares' fur and twitched their ears.

The other knot of Long Patrol were not so lucky. Sergeant Peppertail, his view blocked by a harassing gull that waited until the last moment to clear the way for Scarbatta's attack, had all of a heartbeat to see the swinging spiked mace bearing down on him before it connected squarely with his skull, taking off half his head. Even as Pumphrey and Fawkwell twisted to avoid such fates for themselves, a heavy war hammer caught Fawkwell in the chest, splintering breastbone and ribs with a sickening crack and driving the battered hare to the ground amidst a spray of blood from his mouth.

Pumphrey escaped any serious harm - but only for that instant. The gulls, seeing him now alone with no companion to stand at his side, fell upon the solitary hare with a vengeance, a score and more, going at him in a mad frenzy of beak and talon that no single creature - not even a seasoned veteran of the Long Patrol - could hope to fend off for long.

Seeing their comrade in such dire straits, the Colonel's group sprang up to rush to Pumphrey's aid - only to drop flat again as a second wave of gull-borne chain arms swept over them. This time the attacking birds, having seen the hares' drop-and-duck strategy from the first pass, knew to drop lower themselves, so that their blades and hammers and maces might catch a creature pressed to the ground. A few went too low, sticking in the earth or dragging against the grass - but even these could prove effective as they were pulled forward by the gulls' momentum, as proven by one irregular club that bounced along the terrain before slamming into Leftwick's arm with enough bone-crunching impact to do damage.

"Dah! There goes that elbow!" Leftwick grunted, striving to downplay his injury in best Long Patrol fashion. "Good thing it's not my pitching arm, so I can still stay in this fight once these birdbrained blighters let us up again!"

As Clewiston felt a barbed mace slash through his right ear, shredding the top half of that extremity, Urthblood's dire warning from seven seasons earlier echoed in his memory:

_"If the Long Patrols should ever face me on the field of battle again, I will not allow a single hare of you to leave the contest alive."_

Clewiston gritted his teeth in defiance, ignoring the pain flaring in his ear. "Not like this!" he bit off. "Not on our blinkin' bellies, or even on our knees! We're the badger-be-damned Long Patrol!"

"Eh, wot?" Pledger ventured. "Oh, I say, sah, your ear's a sorry mess ... "

"Just cosmetic, no real damage done. Now up on your stompers, Pledge, an' sword at th' ready! Time t' show these flyin' barbarians how real Patrols bob 'n' weave! Let's see how they do against moving targets!"

"Aye, sir!' Pledger sprang upright along with his commander.

"Hey, you two aren't leaving me out of this!" Leftwick declared, climbing to his own footpaws even as he favored his bad arm.

"Now, Lefty, are y' really sure - " Clewiston broke off from what he was saying to dodge a flying guillotine blade swinging straight at him; twirling in a complete circle, he swung his spear straight-on into the chain supporting the blade, causing the links to whip up and wrap around the haft. When the chain went taut, Clewiston hauled back on it savagely with both paws, causing the gull manacled to it to nosedive hard into the ground, where it lay still in a pile of unruly plumage, either killed by the crushing impact or stunned senseless.

" - sure you're up to evadin' these flying' nightmares?" he finished asking Leftwick.

"It's my arm that's danglin', sah, not my leg. I can still bob 'n' weave with the best of 'em!"

"As you wish." Clewiston and Pledger ducked two more swinging deathtraps aimed their way; now that they knew what to expect and had a sense of the pattern and rhythm of the undulating attacks, avoiding them became a good deal easier. "Stick together then, an' guard each other's flanks as best we can. Come on, chaps - sharps eyes an' light steps! Let's see if we can do anything for the others!"

As they sprinted and stopped cold and veered and ducked and dodged, the beleaguered Long Patrol trio discovered a weakness in the gulls' strategy ripe for exploiting: Due to their own wingspans, the birds could not attack with their swinging weaponry clustered too closely together and, by the same token, they could not attack from multiple directions at once, lest they risk battering, slicing and impaling their fellow gulls, or tangle the chains with potentially disastrous results. Thus, the assault could come from only one direction at a time, with arms-spread gaps between the swinging chains. And with the hares' natural sharpness of eye and athletic coordination to match, bolstered by their Long Patrol fighters' training, they ably held off further harm by bobbing and weaving around the chained weapons and battering any other gull who dared ventured too close.

The fewscore paces separating them from Sergeant Peppertail's trio felt like a season's campaign to battle through, but at last they reached the mass of rampaging gulls swarming around and over the fallen hares. Battering and bashing and slashing and stabbing and resorting to judicious body blows as well, they finally scattered enough of the mad flock to expose their downed comrades. One glance at Peppertail and Fawkwell was all it took to see that neither would ever rise again, so they concentrated on Pumphrey, a cowering and huddled form down on his knees with arms up over his head and ears pecked to shreds. To their immense relief, those arms lowered and Pumphrey's head lifted at this sudden cessation of the punishing avian assault. He looked up at his rescuers through his one good eye with, if not exactly joy, then at least surprised gratitude.

"Wot kept you?" he joked, rising to unsteady legs; his head, paws, arms and torso all bore bloody spots where the thrusting beaks had done their damage. Clearly, he would not have lasted much longer.

"Can't keep a good hare down, wot!" Clewiston said as he glanced toward Peppertail and Fawkwell, confirming his previous assessment that both lay bereft of life. "Right ho, chaps, let's form up around Pums here, defensive group with blade and spear out, an' fend off these frighters while we give Pums a little breather, wot!"

Now that the Long Patrol were tied down to one spot again in defense of their rescued brother, the gulls renewed their assault with the chain-tethered weaponry. But the hares had seen enough of this tactic by now to have their own counter-strategy ready. With the attacks coming from only one direction at a time, and the wingspan-spacing required between birds, the three able-footed Patrollers easily ducked, dodged and sidestepped the swinging arms, not only sparing themselves further harm but even diverting the weapons away from Pumphrey as well. Even when the gulls shifted tactics again literally on the fly, coming at the hares from different angles in a rapidly-changing criss-cross pattern, Clewiston and his companions adapted, allowing not a single blow to land. When it became obvious the gulls would cause no further casualties by these methods, they momentarily broke off hostilities, although they continued to flock and wheel around the trapped hares like a screeching, white-breasted whirlwind.

"Shall we try 'n' make a break, sah, an' run for it?" Leftwick yelled over the unnerving cacophony.

"Run which way?" Pledger asked. "Forward, or back? Not keen on beatin' a blinkin' retreat from these featherfaces, but if we try 'n' press onward, they'll be on us ev'ry blasted step of th' way."

"Not sure they'd let us live either way," Clewiston shouted back. "We've slain some o' their own, an' to savages like this, that's a blood feud. But the point's moot anyway, since I doubt Pums is in much shape t' run very far, an' we Long Patrol don't leave any of our own behind. No, this is where we make our stand - stand or fall."

And so stand they did, even after the maddened gulls swept in closer and threatened to overwhelm them through sheer numbers. Tied down as they were to defend Pumphrey (as well as the remains of their slain comrades), they nevertheless enjoyed some freedom of movement, if only a few steps in any direction. But this was all the adroit Long Patrol needed to bob and weave around the molestations of individual gulls, or even two at a time. Three more gulls fell to the hares' expert thrusts and slashes and high kicks, while the ground beasts themselves endured only additional minor scratches and bruises from their foe.

Three gulls came in at Leftwick at once, sensing the limp-armed hare's vulnerability. Clewiston and Pledger leapt to his defense and helped hold off the aggressors, but not before Leftwick had been knocked off his footpaws and suffered further pecks to his head and wounded elbow ... and then all three hares had to spring to Pumphrey's aid again to keep the gulls away from their grievously wounded comrade. And still the birds pressed the attack from all sides.

It was a stand of legendary proportions, a valiant effort no group of a mere three defenders should ever have been able to put forth for so long against such insurmountable odds, and the spectacle captured the full attention of Scarbatta's gulls. The few warning cries from the seabirds circling higher above went unheeded, until the volley of slingstones smashed into the eastward flank of gulls, and one tumbled to the ground transfixed by a feathered shaft. No shout or battle cry heralded this blindside, no invocation of Abbey valor or shrew pugnacity or badger wrath. And events had allowed the larger force to draw within striking range uncontested.

Alexander stood with footpaws widely planted as he lined up a second shot on another gull, while the Guosim loaded and twirled their slings for a follow-up barrage. Sodexo stood back for now, awaiting the moment when the hare-centered seagull formation would shatter and veer their way to take on the newcomers ... when the hulking badger would be in his element, and woe to any foebird that came within reach of his seeking quarterstaff.

And turn the gulls did, breaking off from the Long Patrol to throw themselves at these new challengers - but not before a second tumbled from the sky pierced by another shaft launched straight and true from the squirrel's bowstring, and many more sustained wounds of varying severity from the shrews' flung stones.

The initial engagement played out like a repeat of the assault on the hares: a flurry of gulls, their numbers now decidedly diminished, diving in against the line of woodlanders, only to discover that a swung longbow at close range could cripple, while the flashing and thrusting shortswords and thwacking loaded slings of the rallying Guosim could take the lives of winged warriors as surely as any Long Patrol spear. And as for Sodexo, one brief demonstration of what he could do with his staff was all anybird needed to see to know to stay clear of him.

With a dozen more gulls lying slain or stunned, balanced against just two additional shrew casualties, once again a gull herald skimmed just above the carnage with the call of "Clear! Clear!" And, once again, the close-quarters warbirds dispersed and scattered, while their incoming brethren swooped forward to hit the expedition from Redwall with their most lethal weaponry.

Alex, seeing what was hurtling toward them, managed to elude the swinging club aimed his way, but the Guosim, packed into a tight battle formation still nearly a score strong, presented a much bigger and less mobile target, as did the broad and burly badger. But if Sodexo succeeded in shrugging off the glancing blow from the mace he very nearly avoided, the shrews fared far worse. Three of Log-a-Log's ranks fell dead to this onslaught, while two others incurred injuries grave enough to remove them from this day's fight.

Away in the near distance, reaching some ears over the screams and moans of the injured, the screeches of the gulls and the rushing, adrenaline-charged blood roar, came the voice of Colonel Clewiston, shouting out a warning even while still warding off a few gulls of his own.

"That's their bally tactic: Thin th' ranks, then move in for th' kill!"

Sodexo strode over to the Abbey squirrel. "Alexander of Redwall, take up your bow and shoot as you have never shot before, until your every shaft is spent. Our survival may depend on it."

Alex still gripped his bow like a club, as he'd seen Mina do once against a Long Patrol hare at Salamandastron. "They won't leave me alone long enough to nock my arrows and line up my shots!"

The badger twirled his staff. "Leave that to me. You worry about shooting straight and true, and I will guard your approaches."

With a nod, Alex returned his bow to a traditional archer's grip, and fished into his quiver for another arrow while Sodexo batted away two gulls who, seeing what was about to happen, decided to risk getting into the path of the swinging weapons to swoop in and personally harass the Redwaller. Sodexo saw to it that their efforts were in vain, then spun to ward off another flying mace aimed their way.

With the badger running interference for him, Alex fell into an automatic, reflexive rhythm of nocking, aiming and shooting, lining up each new shot even as the previous loosed shaft found its mark. The Guosim, meanwhile, scattered from their former tight ranks and followed much the same winning strategy as the Long Patrol, breaking off into groups of two or three, small enough to more easily avoid the chain-delivered weapons without leaving any single shrew alone and exposed to lethal gull predations.

Feeling no more arrows in his quiver, Alex flipped his bow back around to brandish it as a cudgel again. "I'm out!"

Spying two more gulls coming at them with chains trailing from their legs, Sodexo pressed his staff into Alexander's surprised paws. "Here, take this, and use it well."

"But, Lord! You'll be without a weapon!"

"Not for long, I think."

Placing himself halfway between the two oncoming gulls, Sodexo waited for the flying armaments - this time a studded club and a disembodied axe head without a handle - to reach him. He barely had to sway to avoid first the axe and then the club ... but, lunging and grabbing out at the passing chains, he seized each in one massive paw and gripped them as tightly as he could, bringing the two weapon-bearers down with crashing impacts, just as Clewiston had done earlier with his own gull.

But Sodexo was just getting started.

Maintaining his grip on the two chains, and not even paying any heed to the axe and club attached to them, he charged toward the seagulls harassing the Guosim. Before anybeast or anybird knew what was happening, he was swinging the two captive gulls about him by their chains, lifting them clear off the ground and propelling them through the air. Into their fellow gulls they smashed, one after another, rendered into living weapons against their own kind by the indignant badger - although they would not be living for long, at the rate and ferocity with which they were unwittingly bludgeoning and being bludgeoned.

One of Sodexo's chains became entangled in that of an attacking gull, bringing it down. Discarding that chain and the now-dead bird still manacled to it, he continued to lay about him with the one remaining gull in his possession, smacking and scattering the seabirds as effectively as he could have with any forge-wrought weapon.

This proved the final display to achieve what no other by the woodlanders had so far: the gulls dispersed and fled, not just for a few moments to regroup and attack again, but for a prolonged, confused, enraged retreat. Never before had they faced an adversary like Sodexo, nor had they even imagined such a creature might exist, one who could absorb their aggressions seemingly without effect while meting out untold punishment to their ranks.

They might have known to expect such, had they ever witnessed their own badger master in full fighting frenzy.

Clewiston's company took advantage of this lull without hesitation, bearing the wounded Pumphrey across the distance separating the hares from the rest of the expedition from Redwall with the best speed they could muster. Their entire party now reunited again, the woodlanders wasted no time in considering their next move.

Log-a-Log regarded his decimated shrew line with disgust; seven of his own lay either slain or too badly wounded to join in any further fighting. "Gah! A third of my Guosim, taken out by those winged terrors! Who'da thought Urthblood would go an' throw sumpthin' like this at us?!"

"We knew how badly he wants Latura," Alex said in a more reasonable tone, although he himself stood shaken by the violence of this clash. "We should have anticipated he'd use considerable force to try and stop us." Glancing skyward, he added, "The question now is, have we beaten them off for good, or will they come at us for another go?"

"An', more to th' bally point, do we press on either way? Pums here's in bad shape, an' really needs the full attention of an infirmary, quick as he can get it. Leftwick's arm should be tended as well, by expertise he can't get out here."

"Hey, I can still fight!" the limp-armed hare protested, although the numerous other pecks and scratches he bore undermined his assertion of combat readiness. "I've still got my battlin' paw! Just fix my other one up in a sling t' hold me over, an' I'll be fit to see my way through any kerfuffle and bruhaha!"

"Hmm."

"Some o' my shrews should prob'ly head back t' Redwall fer some minis'trin' too," Log-a-Log conceded. "An' then there's our dead. Do we take th' time to bury 'em here, an' fall even farther behind th' Gawtrybe an' Lattie, or see to that grim duty on th' way back?"

"That's assuming we continue."

All eyes looked to the squirrel. "Do you genuinely believe we should not, Alexander?" Sodexo inquired as he unpinned his remaining chain from the dead gull's leg for possible further use as a weapon.

"Fawkwell an' the Sergeant are gettin' proper Redwall burials," Clewiston declared obstinately. "We're not layin' them to their eternal rest out here in th' bloomin' blinkin' middle o' nowhere."

Alex nodded. "Which means somebeast has got to carry them back to the Abbey ... and it won't be any of the injured, who by all rights ought to be escorted by at least one or two able-bodied companions to help them along and see to their needs. And that right there pretty much splits our company in half."

"I am neither injured nor intimidated," said Sodexo. "Were it up to me alone, I would elect to continue the pursuit."

Clewiston chewed this over. "Never let it be said that any fit 'n' capable Long Patrol stood by and allowed an honorable Badger Lord to venture into harm's way alone. If you keep on, you'll have this hare at your side."

"An' this one too!" Pledger pledged.

"An' me as well!" Leftwick affirmed.

"_Not_ you, Lefty," the Colonel reprimanded. "Sorry, ol' bean, but you've seen your full measure of fightin' in this fight. Acquitted yourself well an' honorably, prob'ly earned yourself a bally promotion once we get to the Abbey, from Traveller if I don't make it back m'self, an' you can tell 'im I said so if I'm not on paw to pin your medal to your chest. But you're outta this now, an' that's an order."

Pumphrey, wavering in and out of wakefulness as he crouched feebly upon the ground, flashed a sorry grin Leftwick's way. "Looks like y're joinin' me on th' invalid's list, Lefty ... " Then he coughed, and it didn't sound good.

"Well, you're lookin' ragged an' worn yourself, sah, if you don't mind my sayin'," Leftwick observed. "It'll take half a season of stitching t' mend those ears ... "

"A little flayed flesh on a nonvital extremity's a battle trophy, not cause for the sickbay. Not in the same bally league as a busted arm or leg, an' you know it."

Log-a-Log entered the conversation. "I'm not about t' let you hares an' this badger forge on alone. Half my force may be outta this one way or the other, but that still leaves a good ten Guosim shrews, an' that ain't nuthin' t' sneeze at!"

"You'll need my bow too, if we're to do this," Alex added.

"Then we are decided," Sodexo said. "Even though we may move on as half the number that left Redwall, we'll still see if we can carry out what we set out to do."

"Our numbers may be only half, Lord," the shrew chieftain told the badger, "but ye're worth about as much in a fight as all th' rest of us put t'gether. Wouldn't be surprised if you could hold yer own against those villains even if you struck out alone."

"I'll admit it was easier without a rat riding on my shoulders. It proved a wise idea to leave him behind in the round valley, even if his companion there was less than thrilled to be stuck with him. As to your theory of me being a single-pawed match for all the remaining gulls, it is one I hope not to test." Sodexo glanced westward. "It appears, however, that our test here may not be done yet. Here comes our enemy again."

The woodlanders tensed and brandished their weapons, but to their surprised relief the gulls alighted on the Plains before them, halfway between them and where Peppertail and Fawkwell lay. At the very center of the bird ranks settled Scarbatta, exuding an air of defiant, belligerent arrogance.

Clewiston snorted. "Looks like they wanted to be part of our bally deliberations too, wot?"

"Turn back, or die!" the gull captain shrieked with rampant bad temper.

"That's a right sorry apology for the decent an' honorable beasts they've slain," Pledger muttered.

"Are you the commander of these gulls?" Sodexo inquired of Scarbatta.

"Captain, captain, creeeaawk! Go back, or perish!"

"We will not. These Plains are free for us or anybeast of good will to travel as we please. And we will fight to the death any blackhearted creature who seeks to deny us."

"Fight to death then, to your death, craawk!"

"I thought you might say that." Sodexo still stood holding the chain he'd unmanacled from his second gull. Now, with no warning to either friend or foe, he reared back and flung it straight at Scarbatta with all his strength, sending it whipping end-to-end through the air too fast for the surprised bird to duck. The chain wrapped itself about the gull captain's body and legs with stunning force that sent Scarbatta stumbling to the ground, dazed and entangled.

The other birds flew into a frenzy at this assault upon their commander, a frenzy which only intensified when they realized the badger was striding unarmed straight into their midst. They rallied to protect their stricken captain, but Sodexo bashed and smashed at them with massive balled fists and swiping open paws, slaying more than one and scattering the rest. At last he was upon Scarbatta, reaching down and fastening those deadly paws around the gull's neck.

And then he started to squeeze.

"This is what I think of a Badger Lord who sends out his minions to threaten innocent Redwall-bound travellers for asking honest questions. This is what I think of a beast who places that venerable Abbey under siege for daring to disagree with him. This is what I think of a creature who seeks dominion over free lands that are not his own. And this is what I think of those who would unquestioningly carry out his bidding, to the point of slaying innocent goodbeasts."

Sodexo released his grip and stood back as the chain-wrapped gull captain fell limp upon the meadowgrass, throat crushed and all life gone from him.

Capitalizing on the shock this turn of events caused the gulls, the able-bodied Guosim launched off a new volley of slingstones to either side of Sodexo, further ravaging the seabirds' lines and sending them away in a flurry of frantically flapping wings and maddened, confused cries.

Alex regarded Sodexo warily as the badger rejoined them. "I say, Lord, that was a bit ... much. I hope you haven't just brought us a lot more trouble by doing that."

"Bah! Pish 'n tosh!" Clewiston spat. "They mean t' slay us down to th' last blinkin' beast if they can. No worse trouble than that."

"I felt I had to make my feelings clear," Sodexo said unapologetically. "And the Colonel is correct, I fear; we can bring no worse trouble down upon ourselves through our own actions than our foe was already prepared and willing to visit upon us. To the contrary, this might gain us some leeway. These birds conduct themselves as barbarians - trained barbarians, perhaps, but barbarians nevertheless - and when you deprive savages of their leader, this often casts them into such confusion that they lose the will and ability to fight on."

"I hope you're right about that." Alex surveyed the landscape about them; in addition to the bodies of the two hares and half a dozen or so Guosim, many gull corpses littered the Plains, claimed by squirrel arrow, shrew blade and sling, Long Patrol heroism and badger brute force. "It looks like we've slain well over a score of them, and maybe closer to twice that number. These are the gulls Urthblood needs to guard Salamandastron and the coastlands against Tratton. He may not want to risk losing any more of them to further fighting."

"Unless they've already served their villainous purpose," Clewiston ventured, "and slowed us down all they needed to, t' make sure we never catch up with Lattie. One thing's for sure: Now that we've seen the tactics used by these winged rampagers, we'll not have any hares out in front blazin' the bally way - too exposed an' vulnerable. We'll all jolly well be stickin' together from this point on."

"So, I guess it's decided then?" asked Alex. "We're moving ahead?"

They all looked at each other, then at the retreating gulls. "Don't see no reason why not," Log-a-Log grunted.

"Okay, then." Alex set off toward some of the slain gulls.

"Where're you off to, chappie?" Clewiston inquired.

"To retrieve my arrows," the squirrel replied grimly.


	16. Chapter 88

**CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT**

" ... an' that's how we defeated th' Skara-Drinn stoat horde up North," Truax concluded. "Hardly th' most formidable foe we faced in Urthblood's campaigns - pushovers compared to th' wildcats, or some o' Tratton's crews - but, as you c'n hear, some o' th' tactics we were forced inta was pretty ingenious, consid'rin' how we hadta come up wth 'em rightin th' heat o' battle."

"Impressive," Harth acknowledged with a nod. The two rats sat on the step of the gatehouse cottage, its door standing open to air it out after the previous day's fire. With door and windows wide, the gatehouse might - just might - be made fit for the village rats to sleep in again this coming night.

"That's what you seem t' say after all my Northlands battle tales," Truax said to his fellow rat commander. "You've heard enuff by now t' know Urthblood ain't a beast to be trifled with - on any level." The former captain glanced around the sunny midday Abbey grounds, his gaze coming to settle on the refugee encampment over by the orchard. "Surprised you hit me up for another story at a time like this. Shouldn't you be over there, helpin' calm yer rats an' keepin' 'em in line over their upset 'bout Lattie?"

"Grota can see t' that well enuff on 'is own ... an' after what happened in the Infirmary yesterday, I don't imagine any of 'em'll step too far outta line over Lattie. The Abbess might not be their favorite beast right about now, but the fact that enuff able Abbey fighters bucked her authority an' went out after Lattie anyway has gone a long way toward smoothin' thing over. It'll all work out."

"An' if they don't get Lattie back?"

"Then I reckon there'll be a whole lot more smoothin' over t' do."

"Hm. I'd still think you'd wanna be over there with 'em, nice as this spot is here, instead o' pickin' my brain fer more war stories just like th' ones I've already toldja many times already."

"Never can know too much about yer enemies, can ya?" Harth flashed Truax a fang-filled, conspiratorial grin. "An' you know that badger better'n almost anybeast at Redwall, exceptin' mebbe that squirrel queen up in th' sickbay, an' she'd never tell me anything of worth."

Truax raised his eyebrows. "Y' ain't thinkin' of goin' up 'gainst Urthblood, are ya?"

"I got fighters, an' they're pretty good. An' given th' way things're goin', I'm not too sure we'll be able t' count on Redwall's protection ferever. Time may come we find ourselves outside these walls, through our own choice or no, an' I'd like to be as ready as I can if that day comes."

"That day comes, we're all either dead or in chains, mate. You don't fight Urthblood; you get slaughtered by 'im. You think you'd stand any chance 'gainst him at all? Lemme tell you, if he ever decided t' throw ev'rything he's got against Redwall, this Abbey - even with all its squirrels, even with all its otters, even with its Long Patrol hares, an' even with th' Guosim at their side too - wouldn't stand against such an assault. Redwall would fall. So, given that, see how silly yer talk about throwin' yer few paltry rats up against him is?"

"An' yet Redwallers're out takin' on his forces while we're sittin' here."

"Takin' on his forces? You mean half a dozen Gawtrybe with their arrows all gummed up, an' a pawful o' shrews they already battered their way past? Hardly th' same as a full-scale engagement, is it?"

"From what I heard, it wasn't th' full force that battered those shrews inta oblivion, t'was just that badger 'imself. I'd say havin' a beast like that on yer side'll even the odds in any fight."

"Hrmmm. Still just one beast, mate."

"Same could be said fer yer Urthblood."

"He ain't _my_ Urthblood. Not no more."

"So, you reckon our Sodexo could take 'im in a fair fight?"

"Hmm. Now that's an int'restin' bit o' speculation, friend. If'n Urthblood still had both 'is paws, he'd wipe up anybeast who thought t' challenge 'im, be they badger or no. But as it is now? Might be a fair match, at least as far as brute strength t' brute strength. Prob'ly still give the edge t' Urthblood, tho - that creature's uncanny, in th' way he knows things that can't be known, an' what's t' come. Hard t' best a beast like that."

"Yah, I reckon so." The two looked up to see three of their fellow rats approaching: Castor, Mathurin and the heavy-bellied Turma. They stopped before the gatehouse entrance, and Latura's brother addressed Harth.

"'scuse me, sir, but have you by any chance seen Palter around?"

"You mean that skinny one? What, he still hasn't turned up yet? Isn't he over by the orchard with ev'ryrat else?"

"Nay, not that we can find, an' we've looked. But the thing is, all of us rats from our home village have been stickin' t'gether, mostly. Well, yesterday was so confusin', with all th' pranks 'n' hornets an' then news Lattie had been snatched, an' then that scene in the Infirmary. An' last night t'was too smoky t' sleep in there like we been doin', so we kinda lost track of each other an' weren't really lookin' fer him, not with Lattie on our minds. But now 'ee's nowhere t' be found! We're startin' t' wonder whether those Gawtrybe might've snatched him as well."

"That one? Why would they? Lattie was th' one they wanted."

"Mebbe he an' Lattie were t'gether when it happened. Could be they took him too, or else gave 'im to the other Gawtrybe roundin' us all up. Could even be they slew 'im outright, an' left his body out in Mossflower somewhere. It's not like we'd have any way o' knowin', if they did."

"I'd love t' help you, but ye're askin' th' wrong rodent."

Castor show surprise at this. "Well, what rat should I ask?"

"Not rat. Mouse. I mean the Abbess. She claims she was there when they nabbed Lattie. She'd know if they got the scrawny one too."

"But ... wouldn't she o' said sumpthin' about it 'fore now?"

Harth gave the village rat an "oh please" look. "_This_ Abbess? Th' one who turned this whole Abbey upside-down just so she could throw Lattie to those red-furred wolves, an' then topped it off by slayin' four other rats who rubbed her th' wrong way? Ye're countin' on her comin' clean to us, on anything?"

Truax snorted. "Some o' the others 've takin' t' calling her 'Blood Abbess.'"

Harth snickered. "That's a good 'un! Hadn't heard that one before. Tho', seems t' me 'Abbess Blood' would make more sense."

Turma sniffed indignantly at the two male rats blocking her way. "If ye're finished with yer paltry amusements, kindly move aside an' give me room t' pass. I wanna see whether our liddle house here's even close t' bein' habitable again. I'm not sleepin' another night on th' lawns in my delicate condition - not if I can help it."

"Whatever you say, Madam High-'n'-Mighty Ratmum to Be! Don't go gettin' yer tail in a twist!" Harth scooted aside on the stoop, allowing space for Turma and Mathurin to proceed into the gatehouse.

Truax sniggered at the ratwife's attitude. "Delicate condition, she sez! Only thing delicate on that 'un's the blade in 'er tongue! She allers like that?"

Harth nodded. "Fer th' time I've known 'er, yeah, pretty much. Tho' I never had much truck with th' family rats; too busy tendin' to important things."

The married couple reappeared mere moments later, Mathurin's whiskers twitching his concern to match his wife's. Both wore wide-eyed expressions, and neither Harth nor Truax immediately noted how Turma clutched her paws to her protruding belly.

"That was fast," Harth commented. "Still too smoky in there?"

"It ain't that, you idiot malebeast," Turma forced out between gritted teeth. "The babe's comin'!"

00000000000

"Nessa, I really do think you owe everybeast an explanation."

Vanessa sat at the head of the main table in Great Hall, taking her place there in anticipation of the midday meal. In a slight break from tradition, Maura had claimed the seat to the left of the Abbess; in fact, astute observers might have noted that the Badgermum had not strayed far from Vanessa's side all morning. This long before the commencement of serving, only a modest milling of kitchen helpers, table setters and early lunch arrivals bustled and meandered about the Hall, the workers going about their labors with unhurried ease and the diners ambling to their benches in anticipation of Friar Hugh's latest offerings.

The female mouse looked to her old friend with a studiously blank expression. "An explanation for what, Geoff?"

"Well, for ... for everything! For starters, why did you knowingly create such a potentially dangerous uproar yesterday with all those nasty hijinx? Having such young leverets risk drowning, and starting fires, and falling off the high wall ... and that's before we even get to the hornets you released!"

"Now, Geoff, we've already been over all this. I'd not yet had full contact with Latura when all of that occurred, so I was hardly acting as the responsible steward of Redwall that I am now. But nobeast was ever in any real danger. Martin saw to that."

"And that's another thing: I notice you've been playing rather fast and loose with the name of Martin ever since your miraculous return to yourself, invoking it whenever it's convenient to do so."

Vanessa's expression turned wide-eyed and innocent. "But surely, Geoff, you're not suggesting I refrain from doing so when I have valid reason to acknowledge Martin's part in these events?"

Geoff scowled and puffed out his whiskers, hovering alongside his own seat but not yet ready to take it. "Forget Martin then, for the moment. I don't know - that whole affair yesterday strikes me as just a tad too organized to have been conceived and put into motion by somebeast not entirely in its right mind. Just at what point during all that mayhem did you fully come back to yourself anyway?"

"When Redwall needed me to. And I honestly think you're trying to make this harder than it really needs to be, Geoff."

"Oh really? Then what of your conduct up in the Infirmary? An Abbess is supposed to hold life sacred, not take it so blithely! Over and above the question of just how you were able to perform such a feat in the first place ... "

"I am capable of terrible things when my Abbey is threatened."

"Like slaying a roomful of rats?"

"Like sending away a waif who wanted only to dwell here with her family in peace - the far worse transgression of the two. I regret not one iota my actions in the Infirmary; those ruffians got what was coming to them - although I assure you there was nothing blithe or cavalier about my decision to act as I did. Allowing Latura to be taken away, on the other paw, was a deed I deem as regrettable as it was necessary, and if it could be any other way, I would have it so."

"Yes, but the Infirmary - _how_ did you do it?"

"Perhaps Martin was acting through me."

"Be ... careful," Maura muttered to herself, way under her breath.

Geoff looked to the badger. "Is something caught in your throat there, Maura? And why aren't you with the children? They need you at a time like this most of all."

"Hardly. Cyrus is handling our Abbey youths quite ably on his own these days, the Long Patrol are perfectly capable of looking after their leverets and babes, Deakyne and Neblett are seeing to their own mice and voles, Grayfoot and Judelka are tending Percival, and Winokur is presiding over the rat children with stories to help keep their minds off Latura. I'd say everybeast has things well in paw. My place is at my Abbess's side - now more than ever."

"And why should that be? Does it have anything to do with your meeting with Winokur up in my study last night?"

"My study," Vanessa calmly corrected.

"Yes, well, whatever! It all strikes me as somewhat ... conspiratorial, if I may speak plainly. Redwall's leader must not have the appearance of keeping secrets from one another in such times as these!"

Vanessa stuck out her lower lip. "No, we wouldn't want the appearance of secrets being kept, not at dangerous times such as these."

"Dangerous times," Maura echoed, staring meaningfully at Geoff.

"Dangerous ... and uncertain," Vanessa embellished.

A sudden understanding lit Geoff's eyes. "Ah. But do you really think Harth's rats are so distraught over Latura that they might seek to harm you, and that you need to have Maura guarding you at all times?"

Maura seemed surprised at the former Abbot's wide-of-the-mark conclusion. "Well, yes, I suppose there is that too."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Look at the bright side, Geoff," Vanessa interjected. "If anybeast succeeds in assassinating me, you'll get the Abbot's chair back all to yourself again ... and your study too."

"Nessa! Don't even joke about such a thing!"

"If I can't make light of myself at my own expense, then - " She abruptly stiffened, her voice cracking off in a choke as her spasming paw knocked over an empty water tumbler with a loud clatter. Geoff and Maura looked on in alarm, neither certain what to expect from their Abbess in her present state - although for very different reasons.

"Nessa!" the Badgermum said, reaching out to steady the Abbess with a massive paw on the mouse's shoulder. "Are you ... all right?"

"No," Vanessa replied shakily, regaining her voice and most of her composure. "No, I'm not. Sergeant Peppertail was just killed."

The other two gasped at this statement. "You've ... seen this?" Geoff probed.

"Seen it ... felt it ... call it what you will. It does not go well out in the Plains, and I fear the Sergeant will not be the only hare to fall this day. I should have acted more forcefully to keep them from going after Latura. This is only complicating matters."

"Complicating!?" Geoff burst out, drawing stares from others in Great Hall not close enough to be privy to their conversation. "Beasts are dying, Nessa! Redwallers!"

"The Long Patrol made it quite clear they are acting on their own in this, not as Redwallers. And I see creatures dying on both sides. The question now is, will Urthblood be as forgiving about losing fighters in this clash as we are?"

"You think the Long Patrol were right?" Maura asked. "That Urthblood will use this incident as an excuse to seek war with Redwall?"

"It is too soon to say. Right now, I think all his attention lies on delivering Latura to Salamandastron. But I am not about to predict what that entity will ultimately do."

"Entity?" Geoff echoed. "That's an odd word to use."

"It's the word that fits. Urthblood is both more and less than an ordinary beast. That's the only way I can think of him."

Across Great Hall, the main door slammed open and Turma staggered in, Mathurin at her side supporting her. Together they hastened straight to the stairs leading to the second floor, where they struggled up the steps with all the speed the laboring ratwife could manage in her present state.

"I wonder what that's all about?" Geoff mused.

"I should think that would be obvious, since it's the second time it's happened this season." Vanessa sighed. "One of these days, we really must look into having the Infirmary relocated to the ground floor. It would save so many ailing beasts a little extra strife. Geoff, if you'll excuse me, I suspect my services are needed elsewhere, since it appears Redwall is about to be graced by its second ratbabe of this young spring!"

00000000000

"No! Not her! Anybeast but her!"

If Vanessa had assumed her newly-returned healer's expertise would be welcomed by Redwall's Infirmary and its patients, Turma was about to disabuse her of that notion - at least as far as the Abbey's rat population was concerned.

The ratwife lay propped up in the bed Arlyn and Metellus had hastily shown her to, the pain of her contractions mixing on her face with the glare of enmity she directed Vanessa's way. Mathurin stood nervously at her bedside, wringing his paws in anxious anticipation.

"Don't be silly," Vanessa admonished the ratmum-to-be. "I've far more experience in such things than Arlyn and Metellus put together. You'd be a fool to spurn my assistance now."

"Then I'm a fool. But I want them, not you!"

"Now, Turma, mebbe she's right ... "

Turma turned her baleful glare on her husband at such temerity. "I ain't lettin' that ratslayer lay a paw on me, or my babe! The other two delivered Areti's babe just fine; I want 'em to deliver mine too!"

The rat mother in question lay two beds away, cradling her sleeping babe as she looked on at Turma's diatribe, while across the Infirmary Lady Mina likewise sat up in her bed, staring in amazement at this argument. But they were just onlookers here; the main players of this moment occupied the center of the room.

"But, Turm, don't we want th' best fer our - "

"You ain't th' one givin' birth here! I want them, not her!"

Arlyn looked to the Abbess. "Perhaps it's for the best, Nessa. Why don't you let Metellus and me handle this? It might be better if you stepped outside, since your presence seems to be upsetting our patient here at the time she least needs any additional stress."

Vanessa folded her paws and sighed. "Very well. It's against my better judgment, but if it's what everybeast wants, I'll abide by the majority opinion. Good luck, Turma, and I hope all goes well for you."

The ratwife ignored her, collapsing back onto her pillows and puffing out short breaths as she focused on nature's needs. As Arlyn and his badger apprentice moved forward to assist with the delivery, Vanessa withdrew to the hallway beyond, where she found Mother Maura waiting for her.

"I gather that didn't go over well?" the Badgermum asked, already surmising the answer herself.

"Less than swimmingly. And I fear it may be just the first taste of what I'll run into if I ever do resume my duties as Infirmary keeper on any kind of full-time basis."

"Well, can you really blame them, Nessa? After yesterday?"

"Blame them? Not at all, I suppose. But the day may come when I'll be left no choice but to minister to some of our rat guests, and they'll have no choice but to accept it, whatever their qualms or misgivings."

"Better you than me. I'll serve as Abbey Mother to some of their youngsters if I'm forced to it, but for now I'm just as happy to leave all of that to Winokur. He seems genuinely content to serve as their teacher and mentor, and bless him for it. And, I can't help noticing you still refer to them as 'guests.' Do you see them staying here for the longer term, or not?"

"That all depends on the Accord, doesn't it? And Urthblood, and his Gawtrybe."

"And Latura."

"Yes - and Latura. I'll not put them out as long as the Purge endures, provided they continue to behave. They could be here a long, long time ... or they could be gone by next season. It all depends on how events play out."

As the two of them started down the corridor, satisfied after hearing the healthy cries of the newborn rat that Arlyn and Metellus had indeed proven up to this latest challenge, the muted boom and bong of the Abbey's twin bells reached their ears. "At least we'll not be missing lunch over this," the badger mused.

Vanessa cocked her head. "Those aren't the lunch bells. That's some different tolling."

"Oh? What now?"

"One of the Sparra's tollings, unless I'm mistaken. But it's not the pattern to summon them. Something different is going on."

Maura lowered her voice. "Well, don't you know? I thought you knew everything that was going on at Redwall at any given moment."

"Which means it must concern something going on outside Redwall. But I'm sure Brother Sethburr will enlighten us."

No sooner had she spoken these words than the clopping of sandals reached them from the stairwell ahead, and moments later Sethburr came into view, topping the stairs and hastening toward them upon spying the Abbess.

Maura regarded Vanessa with renewed respect at her powers of otherworldly observation.

"We really should make hares our permanent message runners within the Abbey," Vanessa murmured as the carpenter mouse approached, puffing heavily. "It would make so much more sense. Yes, Sethburr, what is it?"

The Sparra are back from the Plains, Abbess! And they seem quite agitated. It appears they bear news of events there."

"No doubt they do ... although I already know the news cannot be all good, if any of it is." Sighing, she said to Maura at her side, "It looks like we can never have just one thing going here, can we?"


	17. Chapter 89

**CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE**

"Stop now, or there will not be enough of you left alive to carry all your dead back to Redwall."

Threescore gulls surrounded the Abbey party of all sides, standing poised to strike at a word from their new commander while dozens more circled and wheeled overhead, shrieking their war cries.

That commander, the golden eagle Altidor, stood amongst the gulls, towering over them as he stared down the woodlanders. Well aware of Scarbatta's fate, the imposing raptor maintained a respectable distance between himself and Sodexo, and kept his wary gaze on the hulking creature to watch for any sudden moves on the badger's part.

Three more Guosim lay slain from the latest wave of attacks, while Clewiston and Pledger both bore additional flesh wounds and deep bone bruises from these further clashes. Worst of all for the would-be rescuers, the gulls had hit upon a very effective strategy to counter Alexander's tactics, plucking his loosed shafts from their fellow fallen avians before he could recover them. A dozen more gulls lay dead or disabled by his arrows, but the squirrel archer was now left with an empty quiver, his potent threat neutralized.

"I can carry many dead all on my own," Sodexo menacingly boasted. "I will not turn back."

"Yes, but can you carry those deaths on your conscience for seasons to come?" Altidor ran his gaze over his assembled adversaries, clustered into a shoulder-to-shoulder defensive group with Sodexo towering out of its center. "Listen to me, and listen well. Lord Urthblood has mustered all the gulls of the western shores, from the Northlands down to Southsward. If you press on, he will send another hundred to battle you, and another hundred after that if need be. The rat is ours. You cannot have her."

"I don't believe you!" Alex shouted. "Urthblood needs his gulls too badly to guard the coastlands. They're too important to waste them all on us."

"The rat is more important. Look at the carnage around you, if you doubt me, and judge for yourselves."

"I don't think 'ee's bluffin'," Log-a-Log assessed, nursing a heavily-scraped shoulder of his own. "I already lost too many shrews, an' lookin' at this gang here, I'll only lose more if we keep on goin' like we are - an' no guarantee we'll get any closer t' Lattie than we are now."

"An' it's down to just us two Patrollers," Clewiston added, "an' you're plum outta gullstickers, Alex chap. If we go on, it'll be all on Lord Sodexo to bull us through, an' he can't protect us all."

"You have seen our chains," Altidor warned. "We have other weapons too. Do not force us to use them."

Clewiston scowled a half-snarl the eagle's way. "Yah, we know all about your fiendish yellow poison vapors, an flamin' glass globes too. Although only a villain of the lowest, scummiest stripe would deploy such vile an' cowardly methods against honorable an' upright citizens of Mossflower."

"Look to your wounded you left behind in the Flitch-aye-aye valley. They have become our own weapons in this now as well. We have them surrounded and outnumbered. Return to them now, or they will be slain."

This statement stirred the questors to new heights of outrage, and Alex sought to call Altidor's bluff. "You wouldn't! No civilized creatures would threaten harm to helpless casualties behind enemy lines!"

Clewiston chuffed in disgust. "You're givin' these airborne blighters too much credit, Al ol' bean, calling 'em civilized."

"If this threat is what it takes to convince you to break off your futile pursuit, then we are quite serious. And if you persist, we will make it more than a mere threat."

"Why slay us at all?" the squirrel challenged. "We know you've already borne Latura further ahead of us than even the Gawtrybe, and you can do so again anytime you decide. We'd never catch up, and you wouldn't have to slay a single goodbeast to keep her from us."

"The rat, perhaps, but not the Gawtrybe. They were charged with her conduct to Salamandastron. You threatened their mission. You should not have done so."

Log-a-Log stepped over to Alexander. "I don't like it any better'n you do, but I'm about ready t' call this over. I believe these feathered battlers will carry out ev'rything they're threat'nin' an' more. All we'll get out of this if we keep goin' now's more dead shrews, an' mebbe two dead hares an' a dead squirrel along with us. We Guosim're one thing, but Redwall can't afford t' lose you, or th' Colonel. You gotta go back while you still can."

Alexander's tail thrashed in agitation. "Redwall has never given in on anything like this before."

"Never been a bloody beast like Urthblood before," said Clewiston. "First bally time for everything, wot? No shame in comin' up short, not against such overwhelmin' odds. We gave it our best, but it's clear now we'll only lose it all an' gain nothing if we keep on this way. No point fightin' to the last beast when that fight's still not going to win you wot you're fightin' for. An' if we can beat a strategic retreat without further losses, it behooves us to do so."

"It sticks in my craw as well to abandon this pursuit, good Alexander." Sodexo nodded toward Clewiston and Log-a-Log. "But I would say the majority have spoken, and not without due consideration and much good sense. I shall abide by their consensus."

Alex forced himself to accept what the others had said, his face grim and eyes hooded. "Very well. Let's return to the others and make sure they're all right. If nobeast is harmed further, I'm willing to call this off. But first ... "

He took three measured, deliberate paces toward Altidor - not enough to appear threatening, but more than enough to symbolically square off in defiance against the golden eagle. "I want you to take a message to Urthblood. We listened to you; now you listen to us, and mark us well. We consider this incident over Latura an attack on Redwall. We no longer consider your Lord an ally, and we no longer consider him any kind of friend to our Abbey. He has shown his true colors, and they are not any we care for. Henceforth, neither he nor any creature in his service will be welcome at Redwall. Tell him he has lost Mossflower."

Altidor glared down his beak at the squirrel. "You are not authorized to speak for all of Redwall, and most certainly not for all Mossflower. I will not deliver any such message to Lord Urthblood, for your words are empty bluff, and I would not waste his time with anything so meaningless."

Log-a-Log strode forward to stand at Alexander's side, balling his paws into angry fists. "Lissen up, featherface! You'll deliver my friend's message, 'cos he's one of Redwall's chief defenders, an' if he says Urthblood's no longer welcome at that Abbey, you can take it as true! An' ye'll deliver mine as well. Two summers ago, Urthblood helped save my son from searat slavery, an' ever since then I've carried that debt an' stood ready t' render any aid that badger asked of us. Today, that debt was repaid, in Guosim blood. We owe him nothing - an' _I do_ speak for all th' Guosim in this. If he ever comes beggin' our help now, his reply'll be silence - an' if he presses th' matter, we'll let our steel an' our slings do th' talkin'!"

Now Sodexo too stepped forward. "Add my message to theirs. As Lord of the Southern Glades, I speak for goodbeasts beyond counting. I have seen enough of this Urthblood and his methods to know all about him that I need to. If he seeks to add these lands to his domain through force, or in any way threatens Redwall, I will see to it that all of Southern Mossflower rises against him."

Altidor, clearly flustered, ruffled his plumage from head to tail. "Begone, now! Join your wounded in life, if you do not wish to join your slain in death!"

Under the watchful gazes of the hostile seabirds and their eagle leader, the woodlanders solemnly turned and filed through an opening cleared by the encircling gulls. Stopping only to retrieve their slain shrews - Sodexo bore all three of them, stacked in his arms like firewood - the Redwall party commenced its sad retreat back to the point of the first engagement.

There they stopped again to perform burial duties, Log-a-Log wanting to inter all his fallen Guosim on the site of their valiant stand. While the surviving shrews, aided by a willing Pledger, set to work digging the graves, Sodexo, Alexander and Clewiston continued on, wanting to check on the wounded left behind in the valley basin to make sure the birds had kept their word, and no harm had befallen the stricken casualties.

To their relief, they found that none of their friends had succumbed to either their injuries or further action by their feathered foe. The convalescing beasts met their comrades' return with wide-eyed gazes of grateful salvation and anxious questioning; the absence of any shrews amongst the returning questors triggered consternation at first, as did the lifeless forms of Peppertail and Fawkwell that Sodexo bore, indicating that the entire company would now be Redwall bound ...

And with no sign of Latura in sight.

Leftwick met his commander in front of the rest, saluting with his good arm. "Wot's the word, Colonel sah? It's lookin' like we're givin' up this chase, unless my peepers deceive me."

"Grieves me t' say so, but that's exactly wot's goin' on, Lefty. Resistance was just too strong, losses too great, an' those winged terrors were threatening to throw hundreds more of their fellow fiends at us, if that's wot it took to stop us. We were never gonna catch up to those sodden Gawtrybe, much less Lattie herself. Discretion proved the much better part of valor this day, don'tcha know."

"Hmm. Me 'n' Lew were wond'rin' wot was goin' on when all those feathery frighters swooped down an' surrounded us here. Not like we were in any shape t' make any kind o' real fight of it, tho' I'da done my level best to take a few more of 'em with me if it had come to that, and Lew was up for the same. Really did worry they meant t' finish us off, but we were hardly in any position to make th' first blinkin' move. An' then they all flew away, leavin' us to ourselves again. Couldn't figure out wot was goin' on."

"Finishing you off was exactly wot they were threatenin' to do, an' I trust they'd've kept their word an' carried through with it if we'd not relented But don't pour dour all over yourself in th' bally blame game; we'd have turned back anyway, even without 'em holding you lot hostage. Just wasn't in the cards or the stars. We hadta break it off."

"The Colonel speaks true," Sodexo affirmed, reverently laying the two hare bodies down upon the mossy ground. "Had we all been badgers, we might have stood some small chance if we'd pressed on, but I could not have safeguarded the entire company. More would surely have been lost, and perhaps all."

Leftwick and Buckalew stared grimly at the lifeless forms of Fawkwell and the Sergeant. "Yah, I'd say we've lost quite enuff today as it is," Buckalew muttered.

Clewiston nodded toward the most grievously-wounded member of the surviving Long Patrols. "How's Pumphrey holdin' up?"

"He's in pretty bad shape, sah. Driftin' in and out. Was almost tempted t' start marchin' him to Redwall ahead of everybeast else, but then those fur-forsaken gulls came down an' encircled us. Nobeast was goin' anywhere, then." Buckalew looked to his commander. "I say, sah, your ears look to be in almost as sorry shape as Pumphrey's ... "

"Mostly just th' one, an' a few stitches will have it right as rain once I'm back at the Abbey." Clewiston turned to Sodexo. "Lord, might I ask a favor of you?"

The badger nodded. "If I may grant it, I will gladly do so."

"When time comes to move on, if I might impose upon you to carry Sergeant Peppertail an' Fawks the rest of the way back to Redwall, once all the Guosim've got their own heroes laid to rest? I know it'll be a bit of a bally burden, bearin' 'em all that way, but you're the only one of us fit for such a task."

"Naturally. And I had planned on doing exactly that, even before you asked. But, you make it sound as if you will not be accompanying us?"

"Actually, I was thinking of abidin' here for a bit after most of us leave. Something I need to look into."

"Oh? Anything to do with the fallen gulls?"

"Hardly. More to do with something right under our footpaws. Normally I might let it pass in light of everything that's happened out here, but I've a nagging feeling it might be too important to overlook."

Sodexo gave another nod. "As you see fit; you're the senior commander here. I will see to your request as best I can."

Palter, hanging on the fringes of the conversation all this time, looked to Clewiston with renewed hope. "Y' got sumpthin' else in mind t' get Lattie back? Some hare's trick or Long Patrol scheme?"

The Colonel had little sympathy to spare for the whiny rat. "Guess you weren't listenin' earlier. That chase's finished. We've lost too many already in this bloody effort, an' we'd only lose more if we kept on. Much as it grates my grumblin' gizzard t' say it, Urthblood's won this round."

"Oh." The disheartened rat seemed to accept this decree, and said nothing more for the moment, although a range of emotions played across his face as he withdrew from the others once more.

Some time later Pledger and the Guosim rejoined the party from their grim labors, and they all forced themselves to take a light late lunch to keep up their energy reserves; now that there weren't as many mouths to feed, their limited provisions would easily see them back to Redwall with food and drink to spare. As they sat resting, Clewiston laid out the logistics for the remainder of their homeward trek.

"Pledge, Lew, I'm countin' on you two t' get Pumphrey home for the healing he needs. Lefty, I trust that sling'll do you for the rest of this march, until that elbow of yours can be properly set. Lord Sodexo has graciously agreed to carry Fawks an' the Sergeant back to the Abbey for a decent regimental burial, an' I trust Log-a-Log's got enuff healthy shrews left t' see to gettin' all their own injured back all right."

Turning to his fellow leaders of their ill-fated expedition, he said, "Alex, Log-a-Thing, I'd like you two t' tarry behind with me for a bit, while we investigate wot went on here."

"What went on here?" the shrew echoed. "We got our tails handed to us, that's what happened!"

"Not what I meant, Thingummy." Clewiston gestured toward some of the dessicated weasel corpses strewn about the basin floor, grisly remains the rescuers had pointedly avoided camping near. "I mean them. May'aps you lot pounded your way through here in too big a hurry to pay 'em much heed, but the chaps an' I poked around a bit, an' weren't exactly enthralled by wot we saw. Think it bears further pokin', don'tcha know."

"Who are they?" Log-a-Log asked. "Why're they any concern of ours?"

"Who they are should be quite obvious, especially if you were payin' attention an' heard that big golden featherbag refer to this as the Flitch-aye-aye valley. These're none other than those selfsame cannibal wastrels who scoffed unwary passersby careless enough to fall into their trap - includin' one poor Redwall-bound mouse fellow who never made it to our fair Abbey, more's the pity. An' as for why their demise should concern us, it's quite clear they were subjected to a mass massacre here. Now who the blue spring moon do you suppose might've gone an' organized such a thing?"

"The Gawtrybe," Alex answered hollowly. "I recognized their shafts sticking from some of the bodies. But these deaths weren't recent."

"Jolly spot on the mark, Alex ol' bean. Some, but not all. Wotever happened here, it wasn't just our bushtailed friends doin' the slayin'. This's got Urthblood's stink all over it - an' I may mean that more ways than one."

"So what if Urthblood sent a party here t' wipe 'em out?" Log-a-Log argued. "That's one thing I'd not fault 'im for, even after all the events of today."

"I think the Colonel's right about this," Alex told the shrew. "No matter how bad the Flitch-aye-aye were, and no matter how richly they deserved such a bad end, an act of mass extermination carried out this close to Redwall needs to be investigated."

Log-a-Log sighed, then shrugged. "Reckern ye're right. Keen as I am at gettin' back to the Abbey an' away from these accursed Plains, I'll tarry with ye here just long 'nuff to get to th' bottom of this - but not a moment longer, unnerstood?"

"Understood," Clewiston agreed. "An' gettin' to the bally bottom is precisely wot I've got in mind - in th' literal sense of the word."

00000000000

When time came for the main part of their party to be off for Redwall, Clewiston found an unexpected fourth member of their company staying behind with him, Alexander and Log-a-Log.

The Colonel joined everybeast else in staring at the rat in disbelief. "Wot do you mean, you're not goin' back to the Abbey?"

Palter gulped, shuffling nervous footpaws. "I can't. Lattie, she said I hafta go t' sea. She prophersized it. So that's wot I gotta do."

"That's crazy," Log-a-Log scoffed. "Just 'cos that halfwit said it, ye're gonna throw away yer freedom, an' mebbe yer life too, an' follow 'er?"

"Mebbe followin' her's what I'm meant t' do. But none o' you's gonna keep on after her. She's all alone. She needs somebeast with 'er. An' if it ain't gonna be anybeast else, then it's gotta be me, don't it?"

Alex asked him, "You're willing to do this, even though you now know what 'going to sea' means? A life in chains, under the slavemaster's whip - and that's if you're lucky. We've heard from the liberated slaves how Tratton and his officers treat their slaves, and it's no existence I'd wish on my worst enemy."

"Right - an' that's where ye're sendin' Lattie. Why should she hafta face all that on 'er own?"

"If Vanessa's right, Latura won't even make it that far. She seemed convinced Urthblood intends to slay Lattie the moment she's brought before him, and it now looks like there's nothing we can do to stop that. Which means you'll be going to sea, walking straight into the maw of Tratton's slavery machine, without anybeast at _your_ side. You won't be helping Latura at all, so why bother? If you go back to Redwall with us, we'll safeguard you on the return march, and make sure you can rejoin your friends there. There's no need to waste your life chasing after something you'll never be able to do anything about."

Palter shook off the squirrel's concern. "Don't matter. Gotta go t' sea. Lattie sez so."

"We'll not be able t' protect you," Log-a-Log reminded the forlorn rat. "Once ye're on yer own, ye'll be snatched up by th' first patrol of Urthblood's you run inta out on th' Plains, an' then they'll have you, an' there'll be no escapin'."

Palter shrugged. "Then I guess I get t' sea faster, don't I?"

Log-a-Log threw up his paws in exasperation. "Folly! Sheer brainless foolishness! Just glad we shrews have better sense 'n t' go berlievin' silly portents 'n' omens 'n' future riddles!"

Clewiston stroked his whiskers. "For wot I have in mind, we'll be here some little while yet after the injured're on their way back to Redwall. This ratface might just be of some use to us. If we finish up an' he still wants t' go chasin' off after his sea quest an' fulfillin' prophecies, we'll give 'im a sendoff with full best wishes. But 'ee's still got some time to decide, wot?"

"I won't change my mind," Palter insisted.

"Wotever. So, shall we get to it then?"

After seeing off the rest of the company on their slowly-plodding, downcast way up out of the valley and onward to Redwall, the Colonel led his quartet to the hidden hatchway he and his hares had unearthed during the outward leg of their pursuit. Wrinkling his snout as he shifted aside the old corpse partly blocking the egress, he lifted the moss-camouflaged lid to reveal the crude tunnel passage beneath, he asked, "Who wants to go first?"

"Down there?" Log-a-Log protested. "You gotta be jokin'!"

"No joke, Loggy chap, anymore'n all these dead weasels 'round here are a jolly kneeslapper. If we really want to sort out wot went on here, that means goin' down to where they lived."

"I think you're right," Alex said in support of the hare. "But what if some of them are still living down there?"

"If they didn't pop up to molest Buckalew an' Mister Ratface here when we left them behind during the battle, I'd say there're none left to pop up t'all."

"Not necessarily," the shrew chief argued. "They coulda heard all us armed beasts trampin' through here, an' been too intimerdated t' show their ugly, villainous snouts. Fur, just one Long Patrol fighter might've been enuff t' have 'em shakin' in their caves!"

"Hmm. Flattery will get you nowhere, Log-a-chum. Much as I'd like to imagine the reputation of us Long Patrol bein' enuff to stay a whole tribe's paw, don't see it in this case. If any of these rotters remained, wouldn't they've cleared away their dead? To keep their presence secret if nothing else? An' wot of their sleepy-fog? Not a trace of it anywhere, not even when we first came upon this place an' they couldn't've known we were coming. I'm taking that to mean there's no more of 'em here to pump that treacherous stuff out. Although ... "

"Altho', what?" queried Palter, in typical tremulous fashion.

"We can't be sure 'til we see it for our jolly selves. Which means whichever one of us is first down had best be armed, an' ready to use their weapons, just in case."

Alexander and Log-a-Log leaned forward, peering down the root-congested passage. "Looks like nobeast has used this in quite some time," Alex observed. "It'll be a tight squeeze, with lots of protruding obstructions grabbing at us. Squirrels' tails aren't meant for such clogged confines."

"Yah, an' how're we s'posed t' see once we get down there? Looks black as pitch. We'll need torches ... "

"Actually, my good Log, I don't think we will. Browder an' his slave companions told us there's a greenish glow down below, from th' rocks or somethin' that grows on 'em. Once our eyes adjust, we should be able to see our way around just fine, without any torches or lamps."

"Hrm. Y' really serious 'bout goin' through with this, Colonel?"

"Absoballylutely. This's about Urthblood, an' when it comes to ol' Bloodface, I don't joke around."

"Nay," Log-a-Log concurred, "after today, I don't reckern any of us will, ever again. Awright, I'll lead th' way. I'm smaller'n any of you, so I c'n get through this clutter easiest, an' I'll know what t' do with my blade if I get down there an' meet an unfriendly reception. Mebbe I'll even be able t' chop away some of th' side growth, clear a wider way fer th' rest of ye."

"That'd be appreciated." Clewiston flicked at his bandaged ear. "Alex an' his tail aren't the only bally extremities we've gotta worry about, don'tcha know."

"Am ... am I s'posed t' go down there too?" Palter asked, his tone clearly conveying that he found the notion entirely unappealing.

Clewiston regarded Palter, standing there in Latura's peach dress. "Not like that you're not. That outfit'll snag and catch worse than Alex's tail or my ears. Time for some alterations, wot?" Producing a small sharp blade, the hare grabbed the hem of the dress and pulled it out taut, then cut into the material in a sawing fashion. Working his way all the way around Palter from front to back and back again, he'd quickly shorn off all of the fabric below the waist, leaving the rat in what looked like a poofy, peach-colored tunic. "Not perfect, but far more suited to close-quarters adventuring than it was before, wouldn't you say?"

Palter still fidgeted nervously. "Twasn't th' dress I was worried 'bout. Not sure I'd be any help down there - mebbe more of a hindrance."

Log-a-Log sneered at the rat. "Unless you'd rather stay up 'ere an' fend fer yerself, if'n Urthblood's birds come back. Or mebbe ye'd like ta start yer march to th' sea right now?"

"Oh, um, erm ... guess I'd better stick with you then, fer now."

The shrew rolled his eyes. "Hope this lout don't end up gettin' us all kill't. Awright, down I go." He drew his rapier, brandishing it as both a root-clearing machete and a weapon if need be.

Alex drew his own much shorter blade. "I'll be right behind you, to back you up if you encounter trouble, and maybe even do a little more clearing myself, since I'm more the Colonel's size and can better judge how much clearance he'll need."

"Jolly good. An' ratface' an' I'll bring up th' bally rear."

"Palter. M' name's Palter."

"Hrm, wossit? Oh, right then, Paltry 'n' me'll cover your tails, an' be ready to beat a hasty retreat if we hafta claw our way back up t' sunlight again."

"We won't be able to turn around once we're fully inside the tunnel," Alex observed. "It's too narrow. If we're forced to retreat before we reach the bottom, we'll be doing it backward."

"Then we'll just hafta improvise, won't we? But we Redwallers're good at that, wot? Shrews first, don'tcha know." Clewiston motioned for Log-a-Log to proceed. The smaller creature, clutching his shortsword, got down on all fours and crawled into the tunnel, pausing here and there to hack at the vegetative obstructions. Once his tail disappeared into the darkness, Alex followed suit, clutching his own knife before him and leaving his empty quiver and bow behind to more easily pass through the restrictive space. When his bush too had been swallowed by the gloom, the Colonel gestured for Palter to go next. "After you, chap."

The rat hemmed and hawed, clasping his paws as he regarded the forbidding hole in the ground. "Ain't so sure 'bout this ... "

"Bit late t' go changin' your mind now, chum - 'specially after all the custom tailorin' I just provided you with. I'll give you to th' bloomin' count o' three to be on your bally way, or I'll go ahead an' leave you up here t' count the passing gulls ... "

Biting his lip, Palter sank to his knees and stuck his head into the passage, sniffing at it. "Smells ... kinda rank. Like death's driftin' up from there. Kinda sharp an' stingin' too ... "

"One ... two ... "

Faced with the choice between vengeful, rat-hunting gulls and dead cannibal weasels, Palter commenced his climb down the root-weeded incline. Waiting for the scrawny, skinless tail to advance several body-lengths ahead of him, Clewiston got to his paws and knees and brought up the rear, mindful of his bandaged ear.

When the three trailing beasts reached the end of the sloping tunnel and made the short drop to the cavern floor below, their eyes adjusting to the dim rockglow Clewiston had told them to expect, they found Log-a-Log standing looking stricken, casting his gaze about him. He seemed more attuned to something unseen than to the scattered corpses strewn about the cave, just as they were in the valley above.

"What is it, Log-a-Log?" Alex asked. "What's the matter?"

The shrew's snout wrinkled. "That smell ... I reckergnize it. Never will ferget it long as I live."

Clewiston regarded the dead Flitch-aye-aye. "Yah, stench o' death's never easy to take. But this isn't so bad. At least they're not fresh."

Log-a-Log shook his head. "Ain't talkin' 'bout that. I mean the other smell, that's unnerneath th' old decay. That stingin', bitin' essence. That's Urthblood's yellow death ... just like I smelled it on that isle on the Big Inland Lake summer last. These weasels weren't massacred by any honest warriors - they were poisoned t' death!"

The Colonel gave a nod. "I'd half-suspected it might be something like that when I sniffed a hint of something bitter up topside, an' saw a lot of the bodies didn't have Gawtrybe shafts stickin' out of 'em, or any other clear signs of battle wounds. But I needed to make sure, don'tcha know."

Palter glanced about nervously. "It ain't ... it ain't gonna hurt us, is it?"

"Hard t' say. Who can tell wot such devilish stuff from Hellgates is gonna do to a beast. But that's why I had Lew give me the Sergeant's canteen, so we'd have a little more water for such purposes." Withdrawing a kerchief from his tunic, Clewiston unstopped his spare canteen and moistened the cloth, then tied it around his snout in an improvised mask. "Those otters of Urthblood's who took over Salamandastron two summers ago wore something like this to protect themselves from their own sleep-makin' vapors, so if it works 'gainst one weapon His Bloodiness has got in his arsenal, maybe it'll work against another, wot? Nothing to be done about our eyes, sadly, except blink a lot if they get to stingin' too much."

Three more kerchiefs were produced and wetted, then fastened over the noses of the remaining companions. This delay gave their vision further time to acclimate to the dim green phosphorescence, and by the time they finished they could see about them with fair clarity, the stinging vestiges of the poisonous vapors notwithstanding.

"So, what now?" Log-a-Log huffed through his dampened mask, glancing askance at the small pile of Flitch-aye-aye corpses massed alongside the short fallen ladder; apparently many had sought to flee the burning, choking vapors via this egress, and in their blind panic had stampeded each other and knocked the ladder over in the confusion before being overcome by the creeping death dropped down on them from above. Whether any here had been trampled to death rather than succumbing to the toxic fog, or if they had merely been in too much frenzied agony to right the ladder once it toppled, was impossible to say.

"Now, we explore," the Colonel replied.

"Explore what? Ain't this place just one big deathtrap?"

"You saw how many bodies were up there. Throw in this sorry bunch here, and even more than that I'm wagerin' we'll find, and you're talking about an entire tribe, scores at th' bally least. You think they all huddled up in this one chamber when they were alive, for all their needs? There've gotta be sleeping chambers, maybe nurseries, p'raps a dining hall or mess, prob'ly a separate room or rooms where they whipped up that gas of theirs so as not t' put the whole lot of them to sleep, kitchens, and, um ... unpleasant as it is to dwell on, they _were_ cannibals, by all accounts, so we'll prob'ly find where they slaughtered their victims an' kept the inedible parts."

Even in the wan green glow, Palter was seen to grow even greener around the gills at this statement - although, in all truth, Alex and Log-a-Log showed similar nauseous revulsion at this prospect. "An' we're lookin' fer all this ... why, again?" the shrew questioned.

"For starters, Log-a-Bean, wanna make sure none're still alive anywhere down here - an' if there are, we've got ourselves a witness who'll verify t'was Urthblood behind all this. Failin' that, we'll see just how many beasts His Bloodiness exterminated here, and thus know the full extent of his ruthless deed. An' there might be other clues an' evidence of note as well. We'll just hafta stay sharp for wotever presents itself, won't we?"

And so they set out on their subterranean explorations, deciding not to split up in case they did encounter trouble, and also to avoid the risk of anybeast getting lost. Clewiston addressed this latter concern with assurances that his seasons at Salamandastron left him acutely attuned to the twistings and turnings of such labyrinths, and that he'd have no problem leading them all back to their original entry point - not that he didn't expect to find additional ways up out of the Flitch-aye-aye lair during the course of their wanderings.

Sure enough, the senior hare's predictions proved prescient: The underground domain of the late Flitch-aye-aye indeed consisted of myriad passages and chambers, for a variety of uses. Bedchambers - and the term could be used only very loosely, since these weasels seemed to have slept only on mats of sparse moss, or in shallow dirt depressions - lay empty and abandoned, as did any number of community areas, including one kitchen where the sole appointments consisted of a series of open cookfire pits, one with a crude steel roasting spit still propped over it. Most disconcerting of all was the abattoir, where piles of clean-picked bones and skulls spoke to the overarching perfidy of the cannibal tribe, their victims numbering in the scores and including any number of species - even a few birds unwary enough to have succumbed to the narcotic vapors. No signs of clothing, tools, weapons or other personal belongings lay in evidence along with the skeletal jumble; the Flitch-aye-aye must have looted and ransacked all such possessions from their prey before subjecting them to the butcher's blade and searing flames.

In a way, it was almost enough to make the four investigators glad that, in the end, the Flitch-aye-aye had been turned from predator to prey themselves in so dramatic a fashion. Almost, but not quite.

Log-a-Log pawed at his eyes - and not for any sentimental reasons - voicing Palter's thoughts as well. "So, they're all dead, an' we've seen enuff t' know what we coulda figgered out on our own: They were abom'nable murderers who deserved the end they got. This residue's really stingin' my eyes. C'n we get outta here now?"

"In a bit, Loggy my Log. Just one or two other things I want to check on - one of which we passed just back this way, I think." Backtracking a few dozen paces, Clewiston halted at a small raised alcove in the rock wall, almost like a tiny open oven set at waist height. Reaching in, he withdrew a large clay pot and sniffed at the herbal ash remains within. "Yah, sure enuff - you might 'member Urthblood's poison gas, my good Log, but *I* remember the sleepy-stuff he used to knock us all out at Salamandastron ... as if t'were yesterday, in fact. An' this's that same stuff." Setting the pot aside on the floor, he stuck his head into the alcove, mindful of his lame ears, and peered upward, glimpsing daylight far above. "Ayup, just as I thought - one o' their infernal chimneys for wafting their sleep mist up into the valley. Remember passing several more like this - must be a dozen at least, maybe a score or more. Let's hope they'll never be used for such nefarious, bloodthirsty purposes again, wot?"

"Yah, let's," the shrew grumbled. "Can we get outta here _now_, or do you wanna go diggin' fer their ancient dead too?"

"Nah, doubt we'd find any, chap. Something tells me woodlanders weren't the only beasts on their bally dinner plate."

Alex, Palter and Log-a-Log all made queasy faces of disgust at this supposition - but none really doubted it.

A short time later they came to another shaft leading straight up to the surface, but this one had a different aspect than the previous one - newer, neater, and opening directly into the cavern ceiling rather than through a side wall indentation. At the bottom of the shaft on the cavern floor lay a strew of pottery shards. Clewiston picked one up and sniffed, then thrust it away again with his face screwed up in revulsion beneath his mask. He passed the shard to Log-a-Log for confirmation, and met with the same reaction from the shrew.

"Urthblood, huh?"

"Yah. Urthblood, a'right. Same smell as on Snoga's isle, an' here too, 'cept stronger."

"At least now we know how he delivered his gas for the attack here," said Alex. "These drop-shafts are too skillfully wrought to have been sunk by anybeasts but one. Must have had his moles excavate these shafts right down into their midst, and then lobbed the poisoned pots among them before the Flitch-aye-aye could do anything about it."

"Hmm. T'was a shaft like this that Lew fell down, and pierced his backside on some o' these shards. Never occurred to us they might be poisoned. Hope there wasn't enuff residue on 'em to cause Lew any serious trouble."

"He's on his way back to Redwall now," Alex replied. "If there's anyplace where he could have such issues addressed, it's in our Infirmary - especially if Vanessa's fully back in possession of all her healer's knowledge and skills."

"Hrrmph! An' speakin' o' gettin' back t' Redwall ... "

The Colonel took Log-a-Log's hint. "Right. I think this shows us all we need t' know about wot went on here. No need for tarryin' further, don'tcha know. Let's follow our pawsteps back to where we came in, an' see about seein' some bally sunlight again, wot?"

As they retraced their winding path, trusting to Clewiston's sense of underground direction, the hare looked about them in the phantasmagorical green glow. "Y' know," he remarked to nobeast in particular, "these actually wouldn't be such bad digs, for creatures of a mind t' dwell below ground. Clear out all the bodies, fully open up all th' shafts an' chimneys to air it out an' get rid of th' stink, an' it might almost be homey ... "

"Homey?" Log-a-Log snorted. "Even without knowin' what horrors went on here, I'd take sleepin' out in open fields or forest over this dark eternal gloom! Anybeast wants t' make a home of this place, they c'n have it!"


	18. Chapter 90

**CHAPTER NINETY**

Upon their return to the surface, having found their way back to the original chamber and righting the ladder there to allow for easier access up into the sloping tunnel, Alex, Clewiston and Log-a-Log faced the decision whether to depart for the Abbey right away or rest for a while.

"Still early in the afternoon, I'd say," Clewiston judged, gauging the sun's position with a paw-shaded gaze. "Prob'ly could make it most of th' way back to Redwall before nightfall - maybe even overtake the others, since they'll be slowed by their wounded. But I could use a jolly breather first, just to get those fumes an' stench outta my snout."

"Me too," Log-a-Log quickly agreed. "But not down 'ere. Let's get up outta this valley, trade these rocks 'n' moss 'n' sorry grass fer a real Western Plains meadow, with sunshine 'n' cheer 'n' fresh breezes!"

"So, which side do we go up?" asked Alexander. "We'll be going east, but Palter will be going west." He looked to the rat. "That's assuming you still plan to go after Latura?"

"Gotta," Palter affirmed with a nod. "Gotta go t' sea."

"Well, y' don't _gotta_," Log-a-Log scoffed. "But, yer choice if'n y' do. In which case, we may's well part ways here, so none of us hafta waste steps. Let's give this rat fool what he needs t' get him along, an' be rid of him an' his obstinate idiocy!"

As they all chipped in with this task, the hare and shrew noticed that Alex seemed to be helping himself to an overly generous portion of their provisions. "Lookin' t' take the burden of our supplies all on yerself?" Log-a-Log chided.

"I'm going with him."

Clewiston and Log-a-Log gaped at the squirrel, letting his words sink in. "Wot?!" the Colonel exploded at last.

"I need to look Urthblood in the eye and demand an answer from him as to just why he deems Latura so important that he'd risk war with Redwall over her, and throw away his alliance with the Guosim - why he would so willingly spill the blood of goodbeasts to get his way in this. At least one Redwaller need to confront him face to face about this, and demand an accounting. And at least one Abbeybeast needs to tell him to his own ears that Redwall is his friend and ally no more."

"An' hasn't it occurred to you that that beast might very well get itself slain for its blinkin' trouble? Urthblood's treachery knows no bloomin' bounds; today's events should prove that clear as flippin' day!"

"After what happened today, Colonel, all the more reason for me to do this."

"The bunny bouncer's right, Alex," implored Log-a-Log. "Urthblood was willin' t' kill us all; what makes you think that's changed? Marchin' yerself right up to the gates of Salamandastron'll only be deliverin' yerself into the jaws of the enemy - an' that's if his birds don't finish you off first, mebbe 'fore you even make it outta these Plains to th' mountains! What I said b'fore still holds true: Redwall can't afford t' lose you, or th' Colonel. It's yer duty t' make it back home alive, if y' can."

"I fully intend to do just that - after I've gone face to face with Urthblood. The warmaker's might he'd bring to bear against a large armed party of us, he'd dare not use against one alone, unless he wants to reveal himself to everybeast in Mossflower - and even his own captains - as the villain of these times. I don't think even he would go that far. He can't afford to."

"An' if ye're wrong?"

"Then ... tell all my friends back home that I was thinking of them to the last, and make sure my story gets told, as a caution against Urthblood if nothing else. Mossflower must stand firm - and we've just the hearts and spirits to make sure it does."

"An wot of Mina?"

Alex frowned. "The divisions between me and Mina will have to wait until I've addressed the divisions between Redwall and Salamandastron. Any future I'm to have with Mina - if there's to be any salvaged at all - is something I'll attend to once I return."

"If you return," said Clewiston.

Alex gazed to the northwest. "The Gawtrybe are likely far enough ahead of us now that I'll never catch up. Those squirrel fanatics are the one beasts of Urthblood's I could see slaying me on sight, for daring to interfere. Maybe his birds too, but now that it looks like he's going to get Latura uncontested, I have a feeling we'll not be seeing them again, at least not out here on the Plains. I believe Palter and I will have clear marching between here and the mountains - and maybe over them too."

"Unless they all come down on you hard for 'harborin' a bally fugitive' from his almighty Purge." Clewiston nodded Palter's way.

"That's a risk I'll have to take."

"Hrmm. We're not gonna talk you out of this, are we?"

"No, Colonel. You're not. There's no way I can return to Redwall until I've done this."

"Right. Right. Well then, I s'pose it's up to me an' Loggers here to let everybeast know this was your choice, an' to carry that back to Redwall for you." Clewiston set down his travel supplies and embraced Alex in a fond hug of farewell. "Good luck, chappie. An' give ol' Bloodface some real blood 'n' vinegar from me, even if it's only in words, wot?"

"He'll get it from you and me both, Colonel - I'll make sure of that."

"Yah, stay safe an' come back to us," Log-a-Log added as Alex bent down for a parting embrace with the shrew as well. "We need ya back there - an' they'll never let us hear the end of it if y' don't!"

"I'll do my best. Although there is one last thing the two of you can help me with before we go our separate ways."

"Name it, chap."

Alexander pulled on his quiver and picked up his bow. "As you may've noticed, I'm clean out of arrows - and I happened to notice there are a whole lot of spent Gawtrybe shafts down here and up above, just waiting to be gathered up!"

00000000000

The late afternoon sun lay behind the mountain range by the time Matowick's weary Gawtrybe patrol rendezvoused with Klystra and Latura.

The ratmaid, long grown bored and restless from having the falcon as her only companion - and, even worse, being forced to remain within the confines of the same small patch of the Western Plains, unable to wander and explore as she pleased outside of the bird's sight - stood eagerly awaiting the squirrels' arrival, even as she continued to brand them with the title of her adversary.

"Badred's comin' back, catchin' up! Heya, slowpokes, we been waitin' for ya!"

Matowick and his companions grimaced in relief at once again entering the presence of the simple-minded rat prophetess, knowing that reunion with her and her annoying tendencies also meant they were that much closer to their goal. The Gawtrybe captain looked to his falcon counterpart. "Any trouble to report?"

"Would have sent word if so."

The squirrel gave a tired scowl. "Well, I suppose your winged cohorts suffered enough trouble this day for all of us. Did Commodore Altidor bring you up to date on his way back to Salamandastron?"

Klystra nodded. "Heavy losses, many gulls dead before Redwallers turned back. Captain Scarbatta slain by mad badger, Lord Urthblood sure to be unhappy. Some Redwallers slain too. Unfortunate affair."

"The Redwallers weren't all turned back. The rat and the squirrel are still coming. The rat doesn't bother me - he'd blow over in a strong breeze - but the squirrel's another matter, especially since he's rearmed himself and we're still without arrows of our own."

"Don't need arrows. Birds come again, if needed."

"I'll hold you to that. He may've told Altidor upon resuming his march with the rat that he now seeks only to journey to Salamandasatron to speak with Lord Urthblood, but I'll not feel comfortable if he draws anywhere within arrow range of us. He may get it in his head that he can try to get Latura back on his own, if that's not his true aim anyway."

Nixalis looked to his captain. "Sir, we've been two days and a night on the run, without sleep. We've gotta rest, or we'll be in danger of dying on our footpaws."

"Don't worry, we're stopping here. While we can, anyway. Right now we hold enough of a lead over them that they're unlikely to catch up with us - unless they keep on going through the night, like we did. In which case, we'll have to stir ourselves and be on the move again long before daybreak. We'll need Saugus to monitor the situation closely while we sleep."

Klystra looked to the sun-backlit mountains, their highest peaks shimmering in haloed relief. "Saugus be here soon, then we all sleep."

"I doubt most of my unit will be waiting for dusk, or that owl's arrival." Matowick took a small coil of rope from his supplies and went over to Latura while the rest of his squad collapsed on the grass. "Out with your paws. Gotta tie you up again. Can't have you running away in the night."

She put her paws behind her back. "Don't wanna. They bind an' pain me. I'll be good, an' promise I won't run off while ye're all snorin'!"

"No promises - just guarantees. Now put out your paws, or I'll club you senseless and tie you up even tighter than before."

Grumbling her recalcitrance, Latura reluctantly held forth her paws and stood fidgeting as Matowick bound them together. Having thus immobilized her, Matowick shoved her hard in the chest, forcing her back onto her tail with a hard thump. "Hey! T'weren't nice, pushy badred!"

The squirrel ignored her protests as he fastened her footpaws together at the ankles with a second length of rope. "Nice? A captain of Lord Urthblood's was slain today, all on account of you. I missed the birth of my son, all on account of you. Good creatures out here are suffering and dying, all on account of you. The last thing I need is you adding to our woes by making a getaway under cover of dark."

"Shouldn'ta gone an' snatched me then, shouldja? Trouble is as trouble does, as Da allers says."

"You'll know trouble yourself once we get you to Salamandastron. Until then, you'll sit tight when I say to sit tight, move when I tell you to move, and give us no more grief unless you want a nice set of bruises under your fur. Lord Urthblood instructed me only to get you back to the mountain alive; he never said anything about not pummeling you if I felt you deserved it."

Latura stared toward the high mountain passes, still far before them, and fastened on one word of Matowick's admonishment as she regarded their nearer destination. "Grief ... "

"Yah, you seem to be good at that. And what's with your friend coming after us anyway? Our scouts say he isn't even armed! Why didn't he join the others going back to Redwall? He probably could have made it safely. What's he up to?"

"Hasta go t' sea. Couldn't turn back."

"Yeah, I keep hearing you say that about him. But he was free, and in the company of beasts who would have protected him. He didn't have to keep going."

"Sure 'ee did. Got no choice. He's gotta go t' sea."

"But what _for_?"

"Dunno. Just hasta."

Matowick shrugged. "Whatever you say." Done with the exasperating ratmaid, he turned to Klystra. "We all need sleep, and desperately. Are you up for standing watch for us until Saugus arrives?"

"Not problem. Will do." The falcon flicked his beak skyward. "And won't be only bird on watch. Gulls fly over until dusk, keep eye on us, squirrel rat too."

"Good, good. Thank you, Captain." Matowick unfastened his bedroll and laid it out on the meadow grass alongside Nixalis, who'd already stretched out on his own travel blanket. Seating himself, the Gawtrybe commander eyed the distant mountains, emerging silvery and clear in the approaching twilight. "This throws our timing way off. I'd hoped to be setting camp at the base of the range around this time of the evening, so that we could make it over and to the coastlands in a single day. Now, we've still got at least another half-day's march to reach them, and then we'll need to decide whether to stop there or keep on going - which would mean spending a night up there, which I'd not relish."

"Now that there are only two beasts coming after us - and only one of them an armed fighter - maybe it's not so vital we stay ahead of them, sir. We could always lay an ambush, capture them, and take them both with us to Salamandastron."

"Six of us, trying to wrangle three unwilling captives over those treacherous high passes? I think not. You saw how narrow some of those paths are, and how sheer the drops. I'm not even thrilled with the idea of trying to marshal a single prisoner along that dangerous route."

"Then maybe we could lay an ambush, and _not_ take prisoners."

Matowick turned a sour gaze Nixalis's way. "Not sure I care for that idea either. An unarmed rat, and a Redwaller ... "

"The rat's of no consequence, sir, an' if the Redwaller's armed an' coming after us, he's nobeast but himself to blame for whatever happens."

Matowick shook his head. "There's been too much bloodshed already, on both sides, even if we didn't see any of that action ourselves. I'll not spill a Redwaller's blood if I can help it; we'll just have to make sure we stay ahead of him, whatever it takes. And as far as that rat, while he may not be of any consequence to _you_, he apparently is to Latura. And she says he's gotta go to sea, remember?"

Nixalis scoffed. "That one's a crack-skulled, addled-pated simpleton. Why should what she says carry any weight at all?"

"Remember what happened back outside Redwall, when we tried to tie her up?"

This silenced Nixalis.

Matowick gazed over at Latura, still fussing with her bonds. "Never forget what we're doing here ... what Lord Urthblood is risking all because of her, and what it's already cost us. He'd not have committed to this course if she weren't a lot more than she appears."

Latura, having lost interest in the ropes restraining her, took to amusing herself by tickling her own footpaws with her tail, and giggling like a youngbeast. Suddenly her face fell. "Uh oh. Now I gotta pee ... "

"Must be a whole lot more," Nixalis grumbled as he turned over and closed his eyes, eager to catch whatever sleep he could before they'd have to be on the move again.

00000000000

Clewiston and Log-a-Log walked until nightfall, planning to set camp when the evening grew too dark to safely place their footfalls upon the unfamiliar terrain. But, as the last traces of daylight faded from the sky and landscape, they noticed a series of lights bobbing in the flat distance ahead, the telltales of lamps or lanterns borne by nocturnal travellers.

"Who y' reckon these are?" the shrew wondered. "None o' our party was carryin' such with 'em."

"Hope it's not those Northland shrews again. You chaps already had to battle through those hooligans on your way out, an' they might be holdin' a grudge - 'specially if Lord Sodexo had to bop their skulls a few more times on his way back to the Abbey. I'm all fought out for this day, an' not looking for anymore scrapes 'n' scuffles, wot?"

"Yah, but if we bed down here, they might keep comin' and creep up on us while we're slumberin'. P'raps we'd best just push on an' see who they are. Might be able t' sleep easier that way, an' not hafta take turns keepin' watch."

Clewiston sighed. "S'pose that makes a certain modicum of sense, my good Log-a-Thingy ol' shrewbean ... gah! I'm so tired I can't keep my blinkin' colloquialisms straight!"

Log-a-Log smirked in the deepening dusk. "Oh? Sounds just as fool ridiculous t' me as it allers does!"

"Harr-bally-harr-harr-harr. Lead th' way, then, an' this old fool of a hare'll bring up th' rear."

It soon became apparent that the bobbing lights ahead were drawing closer far faster than the tired duo's plodding pace could account for. "Whoever it is," observed Clewiston, "they're in a jolly hurry t' meet up with us. Hope it's not trouble - I'm bally bushed, don'tcha know."

Log-a-Log kept a paw to his rapier hilt. "I'm about tapped out my own self, Colonel, so let's hope words'll get us past whatever it is, without me havin' t' draw my steel agin this day."

Holding to their own measured speed, through both weariness of body and wariness of the dark terrain, they took longer to rendezvous with their phantom fellow travellers than they otherwise might have. But when the two parties did at last meet up some time later, the members of both companies were glad for it.

Clewiston regarded the knot of Redwall otters with surprise in the glow of the lanterns they bore. "You're hardly th' bloomin' beasts we expected t' find all th' way out here. Aren't we still a ways from the Abbey?"

"A ways," Rumter confirmed, "tho' not so far we couldn't make it back well 'fore midnight, if you landlubbers're feelin' up for the slog!"

Clewiston mulled this over. "Hmmm. Tempted as I am to simply drop in this spot an' sleep 'til morn, the promisin' prospect of my own soft Abbey bed might just be wot it takes to keep these paws poundin' th' Plains. 'Sides which, sooner I get this shredded ear an' my other various hurts addressed by somebeast who knows wot it's doing, better chance I'll have of keepin' all my parts. Logger-old-thing, wot say you?"

"Doesn't take as much legpower t' stir these shorter stumps of mine as it does those ungainly, gangly shanks o' yers. You set th' pace, graywhiskers, an' I'll match it all th' way back to Redwall, an' ten circles 'round it too!"

Clewiston grumbled at the shrew's colorful vernacular as he and Log-a-Log made to press on in the company of their otter escort. "Ungainly shanks? Gangly? More like elegant, limber-limbed limbage - enuff in these old legs to leave any shrewpoke wonderin' wot t' do with it all!"

Brydon held up his webbed paw. "Whoa, not so fast! Ain't we fergettin' somebeast?" Straining to peer into the dark night behind the two weary battlers, he said, "Where's Alex, bringin' up the rear? Looks like you two got purty far ahead of him!"

Clewiston and Log-a-Log traded tired glances. "Alex isn't coming," the hare told the otters. "He decided to go on, an' confront Urthblood alone at Salamandastron for an accounting - if he makes it that far."

This revelation stunned the burly waterbeasts. "Can he ... can he do that?" Rumter asked.

"He jolly well is, so guess he can, wot? Sure wasn't list'nin' to any bally thing _we_ had t' say to try'n talk him out of it."

"An' what of the rat?" inquired Gadden. "That fellow villager of Lattie's the Gawtrybe grabbed up to use as a decoy? Does he think 'ee's gonna confront Urthblood too?"

"Hardly," Log-a-Log snorted. "He went on 'cos 'ee's gotta go t' sea. Lattie kept sayin' it, so there was no talkin' sense t' that hardheaded numbskull neither."

The otters digested this. "So," Gadden said at last, "who gets t' tell Lady Mina her husband ain't comin' back to her 'cos he'd rather go yell at th' Lord she's sworn obedience to?"

"I'll claim that distinct privilege for myself," Clewiston volunteered. "Truth is, Alex had been confidin' in me for some time now - long before Lattie got snatched - that he's got greater suspicions about Urthblood than he's let on ... an' after today, it's clear he sees that badger as an enemy of Redwall. I'll enjoy lookin' her in the blinkin' eye when I tell her _that_!"

"An' I'll make no secret of the fact I'd take just as much delight in doin' th' same, if it were my place. Mebbe I'll make a point o' bein' there when you tell 'er." Changing the subject, Log-a-Log said to the otters, "Weren't sure just who we'd be runnin' inta with those bobbin' beacons. Worried you might turn out t' be those shrews of Urthblood's we hadta fight our way through on th' way out. Didja run inta them yerselves, perchance?"

"Matter o' fact, we did, tho' not in th' way yore thinkin'," answered Brydon. "Yore bigger party o' wounded, led by Lord Sodexo, came upon 'em, an' they offered to help bear the dead an' injured back to Redwall."

This nearly astonished both Clewiston and Log-a-Log. "Y' don't bally bloomin' blinkin' say? Don't s'pose they knew about all Urthblood's birds we slew in today's fracas?"

"Um ... it may've not come up. Then again, one glance at yore casualties might've been enuff for 'em to figger there hadta've been losses on both sides. But I think they were so shocked at seein' Abbey 'n' Guosim dead, not t' mention seein' you in retreat without what you were out her for, that they sorta felt obliged t' lend a paw. Either way, it freed us up so we could keep headin' out to meet up with you two - even if we were expectin' t' find more o' you than we did."

"Is that how y' knew t' come out fer us?" asked Log-a-Log. "From those Northlanders bringin' our mates back to the Abbey?"

"Ho no," replied Rumter as they all got underway at a modest pace. "We were already well past the roadside ditch an' out inta the Plains when we ran inta them. T'were our Sparra friends who let us know back at the Abbey what was going on out here. Even after Urthblood's gulls chased 'em outta the battle proper an' most returned to Warbeak Loft, a few stayed circlin' overhead as observers, tho' you may've been too occupied with yore own battlin' to notice 'em. They kept us appraised of things, an' when we heard the tide had definitely turned 'gainst you an' you were in full retreat, the Abbess gave us leave t' mount a party t' meet you halfway an' help you on yore journey home."

"Nice t' know those birdbrains were keepin' a feathered tether 'tween us an' you folks during this misfortunate melee. An' it's always nice t' see a friendly face or three after endurin' something like wot we went through."

"Aye, that's what Nessa thought too," said Brydon. "So, here we are, lightin' yore way back home!"

"How _is_ the Abbess doin'?" Log-a-Log inquired. "I mean, she came back to 'erself so quick yesterday, takin' charge o' things with a vengeance like she were makin' up fer her lost seasons. She holdin' up a'right? No sign o' relapsin', or nought like that?"

The otters exchanged glances amongst themselves, then Brydon said, "That's right - you don't know 'bout the Infirmary yet, do you?"

"Ah, right, I'd almost fergot 'bout that," the shrew confessed. "How did that all work out, anyway? Did Nessa use her diplomatic touch t' negotiate a peaceful outcome, an' get Lady Mina released without harm?"

"Diplomatic touch? Er, not exactly, matey. That's a tale in itself ... "

"But not a full one," Rumter picked up from Brydon. "We c'n tell you how it ended, but we can't really tell you what happened - an' Nessa ain't tellin', so it's all a bit of a mystery. But Mina's safe 'n' our Infirmary's liberated, so all's well that ends well, I guess."

"'cept fer those four rats," Brydon added somberly.

"There's a lot that didn't end well this day," said Log-a-Log, "fer Long Patrol hares, Guosim shrews an' th' one rat we spent so much of our blood 'n' courage tryin' to rescue. So, what's that you say about th' four rats in the 'firmary?"

"That's part o' the tale, it is," Rumter responded. "But speakin' of rats, when you get home ye'll find one more livin' at the Abbey than when you left. Lattie's friend from her village finally delivered her babe safe 'n' healthy - tho', even in that, Nessa had a paw in th' drama."

Brydon caught his fellow otter. "But, Rums, wouldn't that still make it three less'n when they left? One new babe, but four taken away ... "

"Oh, yeah. Reckon yore right, Bry. Hadn't figgered it that way."

Log-a-Log looked to the Colonel. "You got a clue what they're natterin' on 'bout? 'Cos they lost me."

"Yah, count me lost too - an' if they keep it up, they're liable t' send me t' sleep right on my bally stompers. All sounds bloomin mysterious indeed."

"Well, it is!" Brydon offered in his own defense. "So far, Wink an' Mother Maura 're the only two Abbeybeasts Vanessa's taken inta her confidence, but neither of them 're tellin' either. Like some big secret's afoot, an' ev'rybeast else's bein' kept in the dark - even Geoff, an' he used to be Abbot!"

"Mebbe they're just waitin' fer us to return," Log-a-Log speculated. "Wantin' the Colonel an' me t' be on paw fer any 'portant announcements or plannin' they got in mind."

"Hope they're not intendin' t' keep it all mum until _all_ the Abbey bigwigs are back, includin' Alex," added the Colonel. "'Cos if he really does go all th' way out to Salamandastron, could be well into summer 'fore we know wot's wot, wot!"

"You've explained Alex," Rumter said to the hare and shrew, "but you just seein' him off an' havin' a parting of ways couldn't account for how far behind you two were from th' main group. What kept you anyway?"

"Well, Urthblood's birds took all his arrows during th' bloody battle," Clewiston explained, "so we had to help him replenish his supply before he started off for the coast. But there was also somethin' else we needed to look into, an' that's wot really delayed us."

"Oh?" The otters were clearly intrigued. "What struck you as so vital that you put off gettin' home for healin' attention yoreself, or accompayin' yore fallen comrades?"

"Something I'm guessing will jolly well alter Redwall's view of His Bloodiness even more than just today's fightin' would."

Rumter nodded in tune with his fellow waterbeasts. "Hmm. Sounds like we'll each have a tale t' tell on this homeward trek. So, who wants t' go first?"


	19. Chapter 91

**CHAPTER NINETY-ONE**

That night found Vanessa firmly installed as the head of Redwall's Infirmary once more - whether Turma liked the idea or not.

Latura's fellow villager was now the only new mother occupying the Abbey's sick bay; upon hearing from the Sparra how many Long Patrol and Guosim casualties to expect, Arlyn and Vanessa asked Areti if she would mind being discharged from the Infirmary, having had plenty of time to recuperate from the trials of childbirth. Areti had agreed - perhaps as much to be away from the warlike Abbess she'd seen slay her abusive husband and three other horderats as anything - so she and her babe were relocated to a free dormitory bed on the third floor, one of the few available on the premises.

The main body of the dead and wounded - helped along by the Northland shrews, who saw the party to Redwall's main gate but begged off entering the Abbey themselves - showed up in the hour before midnight, and the Abbeybeasts scrambled to receive them. Sergeant Peppertail and Fawkwell and the slain Guosim were laid out in Cavern Hole for later attention while those for whom there was still hope were conducted up to the Infirmary for immediate treatment.

The hare Pumphrey and a battered, gashed shrew named Mongak turned out to be the most grievously wounded, and commanded the main attention of Vanessa, Arlyn and Metellus, the badger and two mice rushing between the pair of beds in their efforts to save both patients. Only after Pumphrey and Mongak had been stabilized for the moment could time be spared for the less seriously injured - and there was certainly no shortage of them, filling every bed in the chamber with two placed in chairs when the beds ran out.

"Abbess," the bandage-eared Mina volunteered from her own bed, "I'd be more than willing to yield my place here to somebeast in greater need. I'm feeling recovered enough that I deem I'll be fine if I return to my chambers. I might not even need anybeast to help me get from here to there."

Vanessa shook her head. "Not that I doubt or distrust the care given you by Arlyn and Metellus, but you were treated quite harshly by those rats yesterday. I'd prefer that you remain where you are for close observation. Most of the other injuries I see here seem superficial, and I suspect many of these patients can be sent on their way once I've seen to them."

"As you say, Abbess. I'll abide here then, until you say otherwise."

"Yes. You will." But Vanessa's dismissive tone of finality didn't stop Mina from following her every move in the late lamplight with a keen and assessing gaze. From mischievous (and malicious) simpleton to domineering presiding Abbess to adroit, merciless ratslayer to benevolent and nurturing healer, all within the space of less than two days, the Gawtrybe Lady could not fully fathom what was going on with Vanessa. Her last memory of the "old" Vanessa had been of the badger-painted mouse standing over her, chastising her through the pain of a pierced abdomen for trying to slay Latura. Then had come word of the commotion Vanessa had instigated, allowing that very same ratmaid to be so improbably delivered into Matowick's custody, followed almost immediately by further word of a Vanessa miraculously returned to her senses and asserting her rule over Redwall once more. And then had come the four rats trying to hold Mina hostage for Latura's return, and their dispatching by the restored Abbess - a development as ludicrously unlikely as anything else to transpire in the unreeling of these mad events. Mina herself failed to witness the slayings, but had heard the accounts from the one waking beast who had ... and was it any wonder that the rats at Redwall viewed Vanessa with such trepidation after that, refusing even the benefit of her demonstrably superior healer's talents?

And Mina knew that, if she were ever again granted a place at the table among Redwall's leadership - a proposition questionable in the extreme, in light of recent events - she would demand answers from the once and current Abbess, and demand them far more forcefully than anybeast had apparently shown the spine or the wherewithal to insist upon so far.

Finishing up with the bedridden and sedated Pumphrey, Vanessa was waved away from Leftwick and Buckalew by her two fellow healers who insisted they had things well in paw with those hares, so she turned her attention back to Mongak and the other shrews - and almost ran smack into Mother Maura, whose domineering presence could fill a room wherever she went.

"Maura. You're hovering."

"Er, sorry," the Badgermum apologized as she shuffled aside. "I just wanted to see if there was any way I could assist."

"Assist? We have Sisters Jimmery and Hazelton and Brother Ronby for that, and those willing mice are all we need. You take up more space than Metellus, Arlyn and I put together, and this chamber doesn't have the room to spare. Not this night."

Maura showed reluctance at being dismissed. "I didn't feel you should be left ... unguarded."

"Unguarded? Amongst war casualties who happen to be our friends and allies? And my fellow healers and helpers? That's an odd thing to say."

"I just thought - "

"Won't the Abbey youngsters require your attention in the morning? You ought to be getting to bed soon, so you'll be fresh and at your best for them. After all, you're no spring badger anymore."

Maura harrumphed at Vanessa. "I'm still a lot younger than _some_ beasts here!"

Several within earshot gazed at Maura in puzzlement over what she might have meant by such a statement.

"If you must remain up and about, go play tiddlywinks with Sodexo's family, or find some other such diversion. But there's no reason for you to be in here. I must insist that you remove yourself from this Infirmary. It's simply too crowded, and we have too much work to do to have you in the way."

An alarmed call from Arlyn at Buckalew's bedside urged Vanessa back that way, and the Abbess hastened to answer the summons, her conversation with Maura seemingly relegated to the back of her mind in light of her more pressing obligations. The dismissed badger ponderously turned and plodded from the chamber, leaving the healerbeasts and their assistants to their labors.

She found Geoff waiting in the corridor beyond, and settled onto the wall bench next to him, her badgery bulk dwarfing the mouse. "So, how are things going in there?" he inquired.

"Busy, but they seem to have everything under control. It doesn't look as if we're likely to lose anybeast else tonight, thank fates. But I've been chased out for taking up too much space, it seems."

"I can't imagine that," Geoff remarked drolly as he regarded the massive creature alongside him. "But why did you even feel the need to be in there at all? You were never a healer yourself, and none of our youngsters are involved in this."

"I thought I might be able to help somehow, but Nessa made it quite clear that my assistance was neither needed nor wanted."

"Ah, I can see how they might think such a thing. Vanessa does seem to have taken full charge of the Infirmary, just like before she was ever Abbess. Makes me wonder if she might be content to return to that position full time, and step down as Abbess ... "

Maura eyed Geoff. "Is that what you're secretly hoping for, so that you can be Abbot again?"

"Well, it would only make sense, wouldn't it? We need a dedicated healer now far more than we need two Abbots AND an Abbess!"

"There's no reason Nessa can't do both. It's not as if the Infirmary's going to get hit by waves of patients all the time like it is tonight."

"I'm not so sure about that, Maura. After today's battles, strife with Urthblood might be unavoidable. I can see our Infirmary being kept quite full by skirmishes, even assuming all-out war doesn't result from all of this. And I can't help but feel you might know more about the prospects for such a possibility than you're letting on. Are you sure you weren't in there just so you could stay close to Vanessa? You seem to be doing that an awful lot since last night in the study."

"Geoff, we've been all over this already. When there's anything worth telling to your ears, you'll hear it. In the meantime, I just don't think Nessa should be left alone."

"Well, she's hardly alone in there, with all that bustle going on - and I doubt she's in danger from her own patients, or brothers and sisters of Redwall. Or, did you mean she might pose some danger to herself?"

Maura was silent for some time. "Keep in mind, she's not too far removed from those frightening fainting spells of hers. She may be acting wholly in command of herself once more, but she had three seasons of wild antics to tell on her. And I for one would hate to lose her again, either through a relapse to her impaired self or in some manner more dire - especially now, after returning to us the way she has."

"Yes, but ... has she really returned to us? I can't put my paw on exactly what it is that perturbs me so about her present state, but something's different about her ... and I don't just mean her newfound proclivity for slaying rats. It's more the air of entitled arrogance she exudes, like she's lording it over us - that was never Vanessa, not even remotely. And invoking the will of Martin every time she turns around is hardly helping matters either."

Maura's brow knit. "Whatever else you may think of this situation, Geoff, Vanessa's connection to a realm beyond ours cannot be denied. She told us the moment Sergeant Peppertail lost his life, and proof of that clairvoyance lies down in Cavern Hole right now, in the form of that hare's body. Maybe Martin has something to do with that and maybe he doesn't, but it's clear Nessa can know things none of the rest of us can. And in times like this, that might prove an advantage we'll sorely need."

"Maybe so, but ... at what cost? There's something ... harder about her, for want of a better word. The gentleness is gone. She shows the strength of an Abbess, but none of the compassion. The kindness that was always there in her is missing. In some ways, she seems almost as distant from us now, in terms of the Vanessa we always knew, than when she was a simple-minded troublemaker. I can't quite shake the feeling that Vanessa still isn't herself these days."

"I know what you mean, Geoff. I know exactly what you mean."

00000000000

It was actually well past midnight by the time Clewiston and Log-a-Log returned to the Abbey ... and they were heard by the walltop lookouts long before they could clearly be seen in the otters' lantern light. To keep themselves awake and their pawsteps following one after the other, they'd taken to joining in with their otter escorts in song, embarking on their latest set of verses even as they crossed the roadside ditch via the sturdier board laid over the trench to replace Vanessa's flimsy planks.

"O, me father were th' keeper of th' Broadstream Pier

Standin' watch one night he saw a sight most queer

Frolicking down in the currents below

A frog and a pike put on a whale of a show

O hi, o ho, swing high and low

That's what you get doin' river patrol!

The pike snapped its teeth and gnashed its jaw

The frog darted clear with a great guffaw

'You'll never catch me, you ugly old fish

To dine on me you can only wish!'

O hi, o ho, catch a fire newt's toe

That's what you get doin' river patrol!

Into a fine frenzy the fish did fly

And frothed up the Broadstream from side to side

Up from the beds the watershrimp joined in

Nipping at the big pike's gills and fin

O hi, o ho, get the moor ropes stowed

That's what you get doin' river patrol!

The frog and the shrimp flitted to and fro

'Til tired and weary the pike did grow

So off down the river the pike did head

To find itself a guppy to gobble instead

O hi, o ho, that's just the way it goes

Night after night on the river patrol!"

The otters on the ramparts grinned in recognition of the jaunty old shanty, and the hares and shrews grinned too, picking out the voices of their respective leaders intermingled with those of the escorts. In no time at all a welcoming group had spilled down from the walls and out into the road to greet the weary travellers.

Amongst the otters and shrews and hares were a few of the Abbey squirrels as well, not least of whom was Elmwood, waiting eagerly on the return of his chief Alexander. And when no squirrel materialized out of the night along with the other returnees, he knew even before being told that things had not gone as expected with the head of the Mossflower Patrol.

"Where's Alex, Colonel sir?"

"That's a bit of a tale, chap. I'll give you the shortpaw version before I head up to the Infirmary for some much-needed patchin' up."

Melanie stepped forward, bestowing upon her husband a welcoming if ginger hug, mindful of any bruises and unseen injuries beneath his tunic and fur. "Clewy, is Alexander all right? He's not in any danger, is he?"

"He was doin' a fair sight better than I am, last I clamped peepers on him. Far as I know, he's still fine."

"Good. Then any further explanation can wait while we get you upstairs. Your poor ear looks like it'll never be the same again. I hope that's the worst of wot you brought home to me."

"Seems t' be, Mel. Tho' I s'pose I oughta wait an' let our miracle Abbess pass judgment on me in that respect, hadn't I?"

While Clewiston bore himself into the Abbey with his wife, Log-a-Log gritted his teeth upon realizing it would fall to him to tell the rats about Palter's decision to press on westward. But Pirkko lay fast asleep at this late hour, unable to to keep himself awake for his father's return, and with no other immediate family demanding his attention, the shrew chieftain decided he might as well get this obligation out of the way.

Already informed by the Sparra and the previously-returned members of the ill-fated rescue party that Latura would not be coming back to Redwall, the rodents were in a dour mood, and most didn't care one way or the other about the skinny, weasely rat who'd decided to throw his freedom away to fulfill some vague prophecy of Latura's. Only Palter's villagers - and not even all of them - took the news of his fate with anything close to worried concern.

The otter Floressa, informed that her bed had been claimed in her absence by the rat mother Areti and her newborn, shrugged and headed back out of Great Hall. "Well," she reasoned, "may's well join my mateys up on th' walltop for lookout duty. There's enuff of 'em up there that they'll not mind if I nod off, an' I can nap just as well there as anywhere!"

Clewiston arrived at the Infirmary with Melanie still at his side, as eager to check on the other injured hares and shrews as he was to have his own wounds tended. His first impression upon stepping into the sick bay, even before looking to any of the numerous patients, was the incongruous sight of Vanessa presiding over all. This was his first time laying eyes on the restored Abbess, and while he'd heard much spoken of her miraculous recovery, being told about it and seeing it for himself were two entirely different things.

The mouse came right up to him upon seeing him enter. "Hello, Colonel, and welcome home. Your timing is fortuitous; I was just about to head down to Cavern Hole to see about preparing Fawkwell and Sergeant Peppertail for burial, so that we could get to that first thing in the morning. But the living take priority over the dead here, so they can wait a bit longer while I tend to you. My condolences to you on their loss; I know how close you are to all the hares under your command."

"Thank you, Abbess," Clewiston accepted with a gracious nod. "It's ... odd seein' you back to yourself like this. How're you doin', ma'am?"

"Better than you look, if you don't mind my saying. Don't you worry about me, and let's have a look at that ear of yours, and see how much of it we can save. We happen to have one open bed left, and I'm sure Lady Mina will be delighted to have you as a neighbor."

Clewiston grunted and grumbled at this prospect as Vanessa led him down the center aisle past all the occupied beds on either paw, more out of habit than anything, since at this point in his overdriven exhaustion he would welcome any chance to be off his aching footpaws, and sharing the proximity of his squirrel Lady nemesis would count as a small price to pay for the desperately-needed rest his overtaxed body demanded.

Nearly every patient slumbered at this late hour, succumbing to either sedation or weariness according to the severity of their individual states. Clewiston paid special attention to Buckalew as they passed the unconscious hare, inquiring in a subdued voice, "Meant t' ask after Lew there. Discovered late in th' game there might be special cause for concern in his case."

"Oh, you mean the simple flesh wound that turned out to be a case of poisoning?"

Clewiston and Melanie regarded Vanessa with some surprise. "How'd you figure that one out, ma'am?" he asked.

"It wasn't difficult to deduce when he suddenly took an inexplicable turn for the worse, exhibiting all the signs of some manner of poisoning. Since I couldn't know the exact nature of the toxin involved, I made my best guess and treated him accordingly, and it seems to have improved his condition. Gave us all quite a scare before we got it sorted out."

"Hmm. Then I guess he made it back here just in time - an' to just the right healerbeast too." The Colonel related in brief what they'd discovered in the desolate, abandoned valley of the Flitch-aye-aye, finishing his concise tale as Vanessa got him settled down onto his mattress, Melanie taking a seat at his side.

"I'd assumed it must be something like that," Vanessa said, "since it didn't seem to be acting like any regular internal poison, and the worst effects seemed to center around the site of the lacerations, suggesting a more topical agent at play. He's still not entirely out of danger yet, and even if he does pull through, he may end up losing enough flesh and muscle to render him lame for the rest of his seasons."

Clewiston snorted in derision. "Leave it to Urthblood, comin' up with such a fiendish weapon that it could still maim or kill seasons after its first use. If that doesn't say it all ... "

"Yes, we'll have a lot to say about Urthblood in the days ahead ... and I'll have a lot to say to you, about defying my recall order and going ahead with this disastrous effort anyway. But for tonight, we'll just concentrate on getting you all better. One moment, and I'll be back with what I need to mend that ear, and poultices for your other injuries."

While the Abbess padded over to the Infirmary's desk and cabinet area, hastily conferring with Metellus there while Arlyn slumped snoozing in his chair, Mina regarded the Colonel. The Gawtrybe Lady had come awake as Clewiston recounted his report of the poisoned dale out on the Plains, and seemed engrossed by the subject.

"You say the Flitch-aye-aye are all gone? Are you sure? How thoroughly did you explore their lair?"

Clewiston coolly regarded the squirrel, whose bandaged ear looked almost to be in worse shape than his own. "Jolly well thoroughly, marm, an' I'm happy to report not one of 'em appears to've made it out of that rat trap alive, as aggrieved as I am to acknowledge the manner of their extermination, or who was behind it."

Mina smirked. "Disappointed you didn't get to claim credit for their eradication yourself, Colonel?"

He turned a hard stare on her. "You didn't happen t' know anything about this little affair, did you?"

"Captain Custis may have mentioned something about it, when he first arrived at Redwall. One of our winter operations - he had much news to share, and that was hardly the most pressing of it. You're right to refer to it as a little affair; in the grand scheme of all that's going on, the fate of one small tribe of cannibal weasels is hardly of great concern."

"Except His Bloodiness went an' used th' same hellish stuff he used against Snoga, even after receiving the censure of every goodbeast who's heard about that atrocity. You just admitted yourself that Flitchaye slaughter took place in the winter, which places it far after the Snoga incident of last summer. Shows he's not capable of learnin' his bally lesson, an' doesn't care wot any decent creature thinks."

"Not _every_ decent creature condemned the strategy employed against Snoga. Lord Urthblood's shrews and moles and Gawtrybe all took part in the operation against the Flitch-aye-aye, even knowing what it involved."

"I rest my bally case. An' you do seem t' know an awful lot about wot went on out there last winter, right down t' which creatures took part in it. Might've been nice of you to share that with us. But then, ol' Bloodface isn't into sharin' such important things with simply Abbeybeasts like us, is he?"

"I would expect that attitude from you. Lord Urthblood has never been able to draw a breath without you Long Patrol jumping down his throat and finding some fault with his actions. When the liberated slaves return from the quarry, let's ask some of them how they feel about the fate of the Flitch-aye-aye, and see if they have any words of condemnation for Lord Urthblood."

"Can't speak to those slaves, but after wot went on here yesterday, an' today out on th' Plains, I'm guessin' words of condemnation toward His Bloodiness is about all you'll be hearin' from any bloomin' lips at this Abbey."

Vanessa returned at that moment, Metellus at her side helping to bear the needed surgical materials. "Now now children, no fighting in our Infirmary, if you please. We've had quite enough of that for one season."

Mina couldn't resist one last dig at the Colonel's expense, now that a perceived ally and supporter had rejoined them. "Even the Abbess here had the good sense to see what needed to be done - to let that threat to Redwall go, and not chase after her. If she and I can be on the same side in this, Colonel, maybe you're the one who needs to re-examine your position on this matter."

Vanessa paused in her medical preparations to turn a hard stare upon Mina. "We are not even close to being on the same side, Lady. So please do not presume to speak for me again."

Thoroughly castigated by the Abbess's simple yet scathing rebuke, Mina sank back into her pillows, clamping her jaw. Clewiston, wincing as Vanessa swabbed at his ear, couldn't keep a satisfied smirk from his face at seeing Mina once again put in her place.

The Gawtrybe Lady glanced toward the Infirmary doorway. "What's keeping Alexander, I wonder? I would have thought he'd be up here by now, to show solidarity with the Colonel if not to see me. Is he consulting with Elmwood on tactical matters, or is he simply too conflicted to bring himself before me until he sorts out his feelings?"

Clewiston opened his mouth to deliver his much-anticipated verbal blow to Mina about her estranged husband, suddenly more reluctant to relish the moment now that it had arrived, but to his surprise, Vanessa spoke first.

"Alexander is not at Redwall."

Squirrel and hares stared at the Abbess in startlement, but for different reasons. "But, he emerged from the battles on the Plains unscathed," said Mina, confused. "Our Sparra scouts observed as much, and the main return party confirmed it. Why would he not be here? Where else would he be?"

"I know only that he is not at this moment anywhere within this Abbey. Perhaps the Colonel can better answer why - although I can make a pretty good guess."

Clewiston nodded, the gesture limited by the care being lavished upon his torn ear. "It's true. Once he'd seen wot Urthblood was capable of - both on th' field of battle, where he was willing to slay Abbeybeasts an' their allies to get his way, as well as down in the Flitchy warrens, where he exterminated an entire tribe like they were no more'n grain beetles - Alex got it in his tufted-eared head that he's gotta go face that badger himself, an' demand some answers as to wot that brute's all about - an' maybe make it clear to Urthblood that Redwall no longer views him as any sort of friend or ally."

Mina's eyes widened in shocked alarm at this revelation. "No ... no, he can't! He can't do that!"

"He seems to think otherwise," Vanessa stated as she took up fiber and needle. "And while I might not approve of him placing himself in such jeopardy, I didn't approve of his efforts to recover Latura either - and I suspect I would meet with equal frustration in trying to talk him out of this course of action as well. Maybe you could be out there on the Plains with him now, trying to talk sense into him, if only you hadn't tried to murder a guest of this Abbey."

"Abbess, he must be stopped! This can't be allowed!"

"Allowed? My authority as Abbess does have its limits, as I've been forced to face these past two days. Alex has chosen his path, and it lies beyond my control now. But I find it telling that he chose storming off to confront Urthblood over returning to your bedside. He would rather yell at your Lord than be with you - and that rather says it all, doesn't it?"

"I thought he was your childhood friend, Abbess. We must stop Alexander in this fool's quest. If we don't, he may never return to Redwall again."

Vanessa leveled a cool gaze Mina's way. "You are way outside your place lecturing any creatures on their fondness toward others. And as for your dire prediction regarding Alexander's fate, I will only conclude that if Urthblood would slay or imprison so noble and decent a beast as Alexander for daring to speak a contrary viewpoint that badger may not care to hear, then that says everything about Urthblood we need to know, doesn't it?"

Clewiston winced anew as Vanessa applied herself to her suturing duties upon his ear. "I say, Abbess, for somebeast who forbade us from goin' after Lattie, you sure are unleashing on Urthblood. Makes one regret missin' that council you called when she was snatched; I'd have liked to hear wot you had to say there."

"Nothing I'm sure you won't be hearing repeated again in the days to come, Colonel. Urthblood's finally revealed how little regard he holds for Redwall; now it will be up to us to decide what to do about it."


	20. Chapter 92

**CHAPTER NINETY-TWO**

From this distance, Foxguard's soaring tower resembled nothing more than a mere needle jabbing above the forest horizon, its flared upper dome and jutting balcony visible only by squinting to bring it into focus, and then just barely, to the sharpest-eyed of observers. At such a geographical remove, a solitary creature could not possibly be spotted by those vigilant watchers, even though he sat exposed atop an open, raised trail ridge, unshielded by tree or terrain as he gazed upon his old home for perhaps the last time.

For many days now, Mykola had followed arcane trails and seldom-trod paths in the progress of his slow, measured escape from the Gawtrybe and his fellow swordfoxes, striking out into forestlands little known even to the inhabitants of central Mossflower, pursuing a course that carried him south and east, always south and east.

He'd laid just enough false clues to mislead any possible pursuers into thinking he might be making a break for Redwall, and covered his real tracks just enough to obscure his true avenue of escape. But he could never go to Redwall, much as he likely would have found safe haven there among folk who would resist surrendering a deserter to Urthblood's punishment-minded soldiery. That Abbey was a place under siege now, and he could not see that turning out well, whether the result stopped at strained relations or deteriorated even further into something far worse. The Redwallers would have their paws quite full enough without an accused traitor seeking refuge among them as well. Apart from the fact that Mykola honestly didn't know whether he could ever find a place amongst woodlanders and feel comfortable as a self-delivered prisoner within those friendly confines, those welcoming walls, he would not have done that to the Abbot ... or to Sword Tolar.

Custis and the Gawtrybe he didn't give a diseased turd about.

Mykola certainly didn't consider himself a traitor, but the Gawtrybe might indeed regard him as such, especially if things went badly with the rats at Redwall, and Custis got it into his head that the lame swordfox had somehow aided the rodent refugees. Since Mykola had fled before the squirrel's return, he could only guess and suppose what had occurred in his absence. But he was sure it couldn't have been good.

Even given his precautions, he was surprised in spite of himself when the Gawtrybe failed to swoop down from the surrounding forest to sweep him up in their vengeful dragnet. Not that first day, nor any of the days since. And with each day he went unaccosted, with each stretch of this long march he put under his uneven footpaws, Mykola dared more and more to believe he might just have eluded them for good, might just get away with this.

Of course, one possible reason nobeast was coming after him could be that things at Foxguard grew even worse upon the Gawtrybe's return than even he had feared they might. And while such a state of affairs might prove a boon to his aspirations toward freedom, he rankled at the idea of his noble swordbeast companions and the fanatical squirrel archers being at each other's throats. Tolar didn't deserve that. Roxroy didn't deserve that. Mona didn't deserve that. And while they were all perfectly capable of sticking up for themselves, that wouldn't spare them the ugliness of acrimonious confrontation.

Mykola, on his own meticulous headlong flight, had not succeeded in avoiding confrontation himself. He'd travelled mostly by night at first, giving him an advantage over any of the day-loving Gawtrybe who might have given chase, since his night vision and sharper hearing would betray them to him rather than the other way around. But there were reasons goodbeasts tended not to be abroad in Mossflower after nightfall, and Mykola had encountered such reasons more than once during this gradual escape. He currently wore the simple, dingy tunic of one such fellow fox, a beast approximately his own stature and build who'd been more than happy to trade his poor garments for the limping fox's sharp black uniform jacket.

Then the avaricious ruffian, emboldened by the perceived weakness he sensed in his lame counterpart, had tried to take Mykola's sword too, in a treacherous gambit meant to catch the former Foxguarder by surprise, and lethally so. That ill-fated sneak attack had not ended so well for the would-be murderer, and Mykola had left behind both his uniform and the slain fox wearing it, as surely as he'd left behind his former life of service at Foxguard. If the Gawtrybe ever should discover this evidence of the defector's passage - assuming they didn't mistake the slain creature for the defector himself - here, days out from the fox fortress, they would know only that Mykola no longer wore his identifying uniform, not what manner of garb he'd exchanged it for ... not that he wouldn't still be easily identifiable by his distinctive wobbling gait, or by the splendid badger-wrought blade he still carried.

Others he'd similarly encountered showed the good sense to back down after less lethal demonstrations of his abilities. And as for goodbeasts, they avoided him altogether, even after he took to travelling by daylight, five or six days out from Foxguard. This far from the fortress, this far from Urthblood's influence, even in these lands genteel by the standards of the Northlands, vermin were still vermin, and an armed fox was not to be trusted.

And then there were the rats.

Mykola had passed any number of them in his travels thus far, some singly and some in small bands or families, and even one proper settlement. He skirted past them unnoticed when he could, or otherwise minimally engaged them, just as he did with the members of any other species he encountered, even as some small corner of his conscience silently screamed at him to grab them, shake them, rush into their midst and shout as long and as loud as he could for them to flee, to wake up to the danger about to overtake them, to somehow escape to someplace safer just as he was attempting to do. But every time he refrained, and kept to himself, for if the rats in this part of Mossflower were to suddenly stir themselves and seek sanctuary, either at Redwall or in regions more remote, this would only signal to the Gawtrybe that the fox they sought had passed this way, while gaining the doomed rats nothing, for where would they go? Where _could_ they go? Just as bad would be if Mykola attempted to warn the rats of these parts and was met with disbelief, scorn and ridicule, because whether they heeded his warnings or not, they would just as easily be able to tell the Northland squirrels, when they came, of the limping herald of their doom. And if the rats did believe him and chose fight over flight, taking up arms to battle their treebound nemesis, they would face slaughter unparalleled in any of Urthblood's campaigns so far. Either way, the Gawtrybe would then know he was here, and most likely renew their search for him. Perhaps some of the rats he met saw the sadness and torment in his eyes, and may even have wondered at it, but never a word did he utter which might have saved even one of them.

That the Gawtrybe would come there was no doubt. Maybe not right away - which Mykola had counted upon when formulating his escape plan - and maybe not even this season, but eventually, inevitably ...

Mykola gazed west from his perch atop his rocky pedestal. He'd come south, very far south, over the course of so many days, and far east too, so that the Eastern Sea must be not far distant. To his left he knew must lie such Mossflower landmarks as the Big Inland Lake with its hidden island castle where Snoga had met his fate, and the high cliff wall and its wide plateau that gradually, gradually sloped back down again to join the barren desert separating Mossflower from Southsward, and all the swamps and marshes and glades and watercourses and forests and settlements making up southern Mossflower, all hidden from his present view but inarguably there. Through all of it the Gawtrybe would someday sweep, as surely as the Accord was the Accord, but not just yet.

The Mossflower campaign had been meant to start in the north, up by the Icetor mountain and fanning south through predetermined quadrants painstakingly mapped out to catch all the rats between there and Foxguard, on that side of the River Moss - that much Mykola had learned from briefings with Tolar. The idea was to isolate and detain all the rats from those areas quickly enough so that word of the campaign would have no chance to spread and tip off the other eventual targets in central and south Mossflower, who would then be next in line. Whether this strategy had been cast aside in the wake of what had happened at Redwall Mykola could not know, but he suspected the Gawtrybe would not deviate from their initial plans if they could help it. The rats of Mossflower were going away, one way or another, and the Gawtrybe would come for them whether they'd been warned or not.

This insider's knowledge had inspired Mykola to pick this path, away from the heart of where the Purge was set to commence in Mossflower. If he could just stay ahead of it, he might find some hidden den for himself that the Gawtrybe would overlook once they did spread their terror to this region. They would be searching for rats, after all, and one solitary woodland fox, uniform discarded and sword kept out of sight, who only ventured out at night when the squirrels were least likely to be watching the forest, would hopefully not attract any undue notice.

All throughout his travels, with every rat he encountered, either solitary or in groups, Mykola had remained alert for one particular rodent, recipient of a merciful reprieve seven seasons ago who'd narrowly escaped the fate of an early death and burial in an unmarked grave outside of Redwall. But if that one still lived, the fox did not cross paths with him during this venture.

Memories of that incident, and of those vibrant yet tragic times two summers past, had Mykola thinking more and more these days of another rat who'd figured prominently in his soldierly life, Sergeant Liam. He specifically recalled a conversation the two of them had shared during Liam's first and last stay at Redwall, before his death in the battle of Salamandastron. The crux of that long-ago discussion had centered around why, when Urthblood had departed from the Abbey with most of his army to deal with his brother Urthfist at their shared mountain home, he'd left a troublemaker like Wolfrum behind at Redwall. With that badger's prophetic sight, how could he have not foreseen the near-tragedy which almost inevitably had ensued? This line of questioning had led the fox and the rat to speculate whether Urthblood had in fact foreseen it all along, and had set up the conditions for Sword Machus to prove himself to the Abbeybeasts, thus overcoming their longstanding fear and distrust of the vulpine species. After all, no Redwaller lost its life in that affair (although it had been a close thing) and if Urthblood could somehow have known that was how it would all turn out, he might well have considered it a gamble worth taking ... especially if he'd already secretly had Foxguard in mind, as he almost certainly must have, and intended for Redwall and the swordfox brigade to become neighbors.

But lately another thought had crept into Mykola's mind, an embellishment and expansion of that earlier round of speculation between him and Liam, taking their theory to the next step. What if Urthblood had foreseen not only the incident which might ennoble and elevate Redwall's regard of foxes, but beyond that, to this present campaign? What if that altercation within the Abbey walls had indeed been otherworldly arranged, not just for the edification of Machus and his foxes but also to the planned denigration of ratkind? A scheme to forever disfavorably color the views of rats at Redwall, even as the foxes were recast as respectable champions of peace?

What if ... what if ... True or not, Mykola could do nothing about it now. Such a state of prophetic affairs and manipulation of world events was not his place to prove or disprove, nor within his ability to do so. And as things stood now, he looked exceedingly unlikely to ever have the chance to ask Urthblood about this himself, even if he could expect a straightforward answer from the badger about such a thing. He well remembered their second visit to Redwall, on their way to reopen the quarry for the construction of Foxguard, and the bizarre verbal faceoff between Badger Lord and Abbess, during which Vanessa could not coax a straight answer out of Urthblood about the battle at Salamandastron, no matter how she phrased her questions, no matter how many times she asked. Urthblood could be inscrutable, and immovable, when faced with an inquisition he did not care to indulge in.

If there truly were anything to this line of reasoning, then the machinations which were even now laying ratkind open to the Purge would have rewarded Mykola for simply being a fox ... and he wasn't sure how to feel about that, but it wouldn't be anything good. Of course, if Urthblood's aim all along had been to harden Redwall's hearts against rats to make sure those good folk were accepting of this Purge, that ambition at least seemed to have backfired rather spectacularly, as witnessed by the Abbey's sheltering of a hundred and a half rats. That might have caused trouble between Foxguard and the Gawtrybe, and between Redwall and the Gawtrybe, but it also spelled considerable inconvenience for Urthblood and his plans ... and that provided Mykola some small sense of satisfaction, in spite of everything.

All of which left Mykola sitting on a rock far from any home he had ever known, an unquenchable sadness weighing upon his heart, the internalized lamentation for an entire species.

Heaving a sigh as the late spring morning wore on toward noon, he rose from his seat and turned away from Foxguard once more, away from the lands to the west, away from the past and all its wasted promise. Shouldering his haversack and his healer's satchel, readjusting the sword at his waist, he descended from the ridge into the thicker forest, where he would be shielded from those he'd left behind, just as they would be shielded from him. It was time to be on the move again, and so he pressed on to the south and east, forever south and east.

00000000000

Matowick's absence at Salamandastron did not go unnoticed by Ambassador Erzath.

On this afternoon he wandered the permitted portions of the mountain fortress, just as he so often did, both to while away the time and to glean whatever he could that might be of use for his next report to Terramort. He would have preferred to be down in the central dining hall, where Urthblood was at that moment receiving his latest guests and engaged in talks with them, but the searat diplomat had been squarely barred from those proceedings, weasel guards posted to block all the tunnel and stairway approaches to the mammoth chamber, and mouse soldiers assigned to escort him wherever he went.

Wending his aimless way down one of the outer passages, he came across an open doorway to the exterior mountain slopes, and here he felt he finally hit pay dirt. Sitting out on the open balcony on a rock bench under the wide blue sky was Lieutenant Perricone, cradling her newborn son in her lap. Gentle but persistent onshore breezes ruffled her fur and tail, and she held the babe close to her, making sure the swaddling cloth was bunched just right to form a protective wind barrier.

When Erzath made to proceed out onto the paverstone platform to join the Gawwife, his mouse escorts threw their warning arms up in his way. "Not out there, Ambassador," one said with far less than complete deference. "The Lieutenant doesn't look like she wants to be disturbed." He didn't add, "By the likes of you," but he didn't have to.

Perricone, glancing up at the terse intrusion, interceded on the rat's behalf. "No, it's all right. The Ambassador is welcome to join me if he wishes." In truth, she regarded the constantly-prying representative of Terramort less than welcome at almost all times and in almost all circumstances, but something about the mouse's tone of intolerant reprimand rankled her in just such a way that she felt compelled to undermine her fellow woodlander's brusque authority, even if it was to Erzath's benefit. Scooting aside on her bench, she made room for him, even as her protective, comforting hold on her precious bundle never slipped or shifted. As Erzath availed himself of her hospitality, the two mouse soldiers exited out onto the balcony as well, unflagging in their assignment this day to shadow Tratton's Ambassador wherever in the mountain he went.

Erzath gazed about him. While he had surely passed this point many times, he could not remember with any clarity whether he'd ever actually ventured out onto it to enjoy the ocean view, which he admitted to himself now was splendid. This spot, in times of war, had likely hosted a large catapult or some other similar battle engine, positioned to lob projectiles out into the shallows to menace any enemy vessel that dared draw too near, or perhaps north along the shore to discourage any threatening horde from assembling there; from this vantage, either target would be within easy range.

But there was no catapult here now, if Salamandastron even still possessed any such armaments; the last war with Tratton had dramatically underscored their vulnerability and ineffectiveness, and after losing his entire complement of the giant rock-hurlers to stormpowder blasts, Urthblood might well have not bothered building any more. Now, patterned stonework underpaw and carved rock benches made this terrace seem more like an idyllic sightseer's nook, a spot for taking in the sea and shore vistas and relaxing in meditative contemplation, or enjoying the company of a select pawful of intimates and comrades ... or for nursing one's suckling whelp.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant. An' how're ye on this fine clear day? I've not seen much of you lately - or your husband either."

This mention of the absent Matowick made Perri realize why she might have bade Erzath join her, if only in observation of formalities. The Ambassador and her husband had spent so much time in each other's company these past two seasons - acrimonious and grudging as that shared time could often be - that one just naturally reminded her of the other now. And if Matti could not be here with her, maybe this other, coarser, furless-tailed rodent might for her carry echoes of her spouse's spirit and personality until the flesh-and-blood Matowick could return safe and sound from his present mission to properly fill that space in her life once more.

"You know how busy Matti keeps himself, being captain of all the Gawtrybe here at Salamandastron. And as for myself, contending with the latter stages of expectant motherhood, and then actually becoming a mother, hasn't exactly left me in any state for casual socializing. So it's hardly surprising that you've not seen much of either of us around the mountain."

"Ah, yes! This's the first time I'm seein' you since the, er, blessed event. Congratulashuns on that!" Leaning in to inspect the squirrel infant, who gazed back up at him with alert, guileless wide brown eyes, the rat remarked, "An' a fine young son he is! Such a shame his father wasn't here fer the joyous occasion ... "

Perricone drew back her babe at this, partly covering his tiny face with the blanket as if suddenly fearful she might be exposing his pure innocence to something unwholesome. "Who says he wasn't?"

Erzath flashed what he meant to be a disarming smile. "Come now, 'tenant. You can't pull th' canvas over this rat's eyes. Your husband's always been busy, from th' time I first set my claws upon the rock of this place, an' that's never kept 'im outta my sight fer so long. An' I pick things up, too - surprisin' what patient ears can hear when nobeast stops t' think about who's liss'nin' in. Seems t' me it'd take a lot fer a first-time father to miss his son's birth. Momentous event fer him, an fer Salamandastron too, him bein' its top squirrel captain. Now, what could've kept him from bein' here for that ... ?"

"Dedicated service to Lord Urthblood often demands much. Look at how many of us died fighting _you_, before the Accord."

Erzath winced. "No call fer bein' harsh there, 'tenant. An' as I know my history, lots more of us died than you. But history's what it is now, isn't it? We've got the Accord, an' peace too. Wouldn't behoove Lord Urthblood or my own master to go stirrin' anything up that might jeopardize that peace, now would it? So, just what did call your beloved Captain away from Salamandastron at a time like this?"

"You're fishing, Ambassador, and being rather obvious about it too."

"I was only expressin' my concern fer your plight, 'tenant. Pains me t' see you deprived of your better half when he really ought to be at your side."

"And now you're being cringingly disingenuous too. Stop the fishing expedition, Ambassador - you don't make a very good otter."

Erzath seized this new opening even as he was rebuffed at his old one. "Now that you bring up otters, seems to me there've been a lot of those waterbeasts comin' an' goin' here lately. Funny thing, that - 'specially since our intelligence was that all Lord Urthblood's otters quit his service last summer, an' went back up North to their old homes to dwell there in their own way, free of that badger's orders."

"Then maybe your intelligence leaves something to be desired. Perhaps Tratton should be looking for a new Spymaster."

Erzath winced anew. He didn't know how much these creatures of the lands knew about Uroza or his dreaded agency, or if they even knew his name and identity; it was entirely possible they'd inferred such things purely on speculation, and the realization that King Tratton could never have held his Empire together without a formidable and ruthless secret police to crush dissent, quell unrest and keep potential usurpers too busy looking over their shoulders to fully threaten their sovereign. And if this impertinent Gawtrybe officer knew, really knew, what Uroza was all about, she would not dare to speak so blithely about him. She would not dare.

"Let us agree t' leave such affairs to King Tratton, hmm? But gettin' back to affairs closer to paw ... " Erzath nodded toward his attendant mouse minders. "Lord Urthblood might be able t' bar me from certain areas inside this stronghold - moreso on some days than others, hrmph - an' he may be able t' limit my movements more'n the respect rightfully afforded an Ambassador can warrant, but not even he can make my house arrest here so blatant that I'm bottled up so tight I can't see _anything_ of note. Like down there, fer instance ... " He pointed downslope and shoreward, at the pier, where even now a small ship rode upon the tidal swells, tied up to the jetty. "I see 'em come an' go, 'tenant. From my chamber, from th' plateau, down on th' beach, from terraces 'n' balconies like this one ... can't always make out the identities of the beasts gettin' on an' off, tho' sometimes I can, spite o' yer master's best attempts t' keep me in th' dark. I see 'em come an' go."

"Well, good for you. I'm glad you've been able to sneak in some sightseeing between your Ambassadorial duties. Your own master must be delighted with you."

"There's all kinds o' sights to be seen, 'tenant. An' all kinds of occasions too - like what's happ'nin' right this moment down in yer dinin' hall. Yer Lord's made it pretty clear he doesn't want me anywhere near whatever's goin' on in there. Wonder why that is? Things're s'posed to be open an' friendly 'tween us now, no secrets to hide ... "

"We're at peace, Ambassador, and that is all. We are hardly friends, or allies, and as far as openness, perhaps Lord Urthblood will open all of Salamandastron to you when Tratton opens all of Terramort to our Ambassador Squillace - which is to say, most likely never."

"Ooo - there you go, bein' needlessly harsh again. I'm only askin' questions here. Would I be far off in assumin' that whatever meeting Urthblood's convenin' down there's got somethin' to do with that vessel moored at your dock - an' the creatures aboard it?"

"You seem to have missed the very obvious detail that I am presently on maternity leave, Ambassador, and not in active service to His Lordship - which leaves me blissfully out of the loop when it comes to the official goings-on at Salamandastron these days. So if you're looking to pump somebeast for useful intelligence, your choice of candidate leaves a lot to be desired."

"Pump? Such a hard word, 'tenant. Can't two beasts whose Lords have made peace have a simple, friendly chat on a beautiful, sunny spring day? T'would be a shame if 'tis not so."

Perricone decided the falsely obsequious rat had finally overstayed his welcome, and wondered why she'd ever invited him out here to join her in the first place. "If you'll excuse me, Ambassador, I think little Elberon needs another feeding, and I gather you'd prefer to give me some privacy for that."

"Privacy? Out here?" Erzath grinned, pointing skyward. "Not with so many gulls always about. They see ev'rything - tho' lately, in th' past couple o' days, there haven't seem to've been quite as many about as usual. An' two days ago, a huge flock o' them flew inland. Any idea what that was all about?"

Perri flatly ignored his question. "I don't mind being seen by gulls; it's their duty to watch these coastlands, after all. And they're built differently enough from us furred creatures that a modest display of nursing should not titillate them in the least. Now, my son isn't getting any less hungry, so if you don't mind, you can go somewhere else to speculate to your heart's content."

"You heard the Lieutenant," the senior mouse ordered. "Time to move along, Ambassador."

Erzath grudgingly rose from the rough-hewn bench, about to follow the mice back into the mountain when a movement out to sea caught his eye, holding him in his spot. Regarding the seascape for more moments than Perri or the mice might have preferred, the searat diplomat gave a sour half-grin at the sight of the approaching sails. "Looks like I'll have even more t' speculate on than I thought ... an' like Lord Urthblood's gonna have more guests this day than he was plannin' on!"


	21. Chapter 93

**CHAPTER NINETY-THREE**

"What ... what was that?"

It had taken Alexander and Palter two days to walk the rest of the way across the Western Plains to the base of the mountain range, mainly due to the rat's reluctance - or physical inability - to maintain a pace as brisk as before. Alex didn't begrudge his travel companion this loss of speed or time; now that they knew they'd not be rescuing Latura, this freed them to arrive at Salamandastron on their own schedule, whether that was one day behind the Gawtrybe and their prisoner, or two, or even three. And Alex really couldn't fault Palter for not wanting to rush things, considering what fate likely held in store for him upon reaching Urthblood's coastal stronghold.

The Redwall squirrel remembered from two summers before the location of the hidden trail leading up to the high mountain passes, and was able to find it again with his Forest Patrol leader's unerring sense of direction. Now he and Palter sat in the shadows of the range, mutually agreeing to call a halt for the day even though the sun marked the hour as early afternoon. Alex well recalled his former night spent up in those wind-scoured passes, and that had been at the height of summer; now, still only in the second half of spring, the cold of those barren peaks was likely to be even less tolerable. Palter accepted without argument that they would want to be over the mountains and back down the other side in a single day if they could at all manage it.

For reasons the rat and squirrel could only guess at, Urthblood's birds seemed to have all but disappeared since the last encounter with Altidor after parting ways with the Colonel and Log-a-Log, just the occasional scout glimpsed circling high in the sky before vanishing again. Clearly, the two questors - one unimposing and unarmed - were considered so negligible a threat that the Badger Lord didn't even regard them as worthy of continued surveillance ... or perhaps something else was going on. Alex forced himself not to dwell on it; if Urthblood had any other unwelcome surprises in store for them, they'd discover it soon enough.

As Alexander saw to their poor excuse for a campsite - no tents or shelters, no bedding, and a campfire only if they could find enough dead wood close to paw to start one, which seemed unlikely - a distant rumbling roar reached their ears, making them glance up at the mountain crags high above. The reverberation could be felt through the ground where they sat, momentous as a mighty clap of thunder but far more subtle. Like thunder it rolled and echoed, but the clear sky revealed no trace of any storm cloud which could have given birth to such a weather phenomenon.

"Was that ... an earthquake?" the rat wondered aloud with obvious nervousness. "I heard o' such things, tho' I ne'er did experience one m'self."

"Well, it's sure not thunder, not with that sky. But I've a feeling I know what it may be ... "

Palter stared at the squirrel in expectation. "What?"

"Could be Urthblood's trying out some new toys. Speculation's been rife for seasons now that he might have divined the formula for Tratton's stormpowder. If true, it only makes sense he'd want to test it before using it in battle. Either that, or the Accord has broken down, and Tratton's attacking Salamandastron again ... although I'm not sure we'd be able to hear and feel it so clearly if that were the case, not all the way from the coast."

A glimmer of hope danced in Palter's heart. "But, if they're fightin' again - if there ain't no Accord no more - then there'd not be any Purge neither, would there? No more roundin' up us rats, an' shippin' us off to sea. Mebbe even Lattie'd be spared, if war broke out 'fore she made it to that badger's place."

"I'd not hold my breath over that happening, friend. From what we know about how badly Urthblood wanted Latura, I'm guessing he'd still be after her, war or no war. That's almost a separate issue than anything going on with the Purge, or with Tratton and the Accord ... " Alex paused, face gone lax with distracted concentration; something about what he'd just said nagged at the corners of his mind, like a realization waiting and wanting to be discovered. Shaking it off, he continued, "Even if the Accord's failure ends up saving you by some long shot, I'm sure it's too late to do Lattie any good. Unless Tratton's hitting Salamandastron so hard it keeps Matowick from delivering her to Urthblood altogether ... "

"Hey, lookit that!" Palter suddenly declared, pointing up toward the peaks.

Alex studied the plume of dust rising up from one of the recesses in the higher elevations. "Then again, it could have just been an ordinary rockslide. Although ... "

"Altho' what?"

"Unless I'm mistaken, that rockfall - assuming that's what it was - looks to have occurred right along one of the trails we'll need to follow to get through to the coastlands. And I find that just a bit too coincidental, don't you?"

"Well, whaddya think it means?"

"The Gawtrybe weren't carrying any stormpowder with them; we'd have seen the kegs. But that doesn't mean they couldn't have rendezvoused up there with somebeasts who were, with orders from Urthblood to seal the pass to keep anybeast else from following. It could even have been Tratton's rats up there, if that badger and the Searat King are working together, as the Long Patrol have always suspected."

"Wait ... You jus' said they could be at war, an' now ye're sayin' they might be workin' t'gether. Which is it?"

"That's the thing: With Urthblood, you can never know. But if that trail has just been blocked, by whatever means and for whatever purpose, we might as well turn back for Redwall now, because we'll not be getting through to Salamandastron that way - not anytime this season, or next."

"But ... I gotta ... "

Alex nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes, I know. Go to sea. You've mentioned that, once or twice."

"So, whadda we do now?"

Alex considered this for a few moments. "We've come this far already, so it would be silly not to go on, in case my fears prove unfounded. Maybe that rockfall didn't completely block the trail after all. Maybe we'll still be able to get through. We won't know until we go up there and find out for ourselves."

"Um, aye, makes sense. That'll be t'morrow, then?"

The Mossflower Patrol leader studied the mountainous slopes, gauging and judging, then looked to the sky. "You know, that rockslide doesn't appear to have happened right at the highest peaks - a fair way below, in fact, by my eye. And with these longer spring days, I bet we could make it there well before nightfall. Better to know sooner rather than later, right?"

"Um ... " Palter twiddled his paws in trepidation. "But won't that put us too high up t' set camp? Won't it be too cold? Wasn't that what we were tryin' to avoid?"

"I don't think so. It's only the highest passes that get the bitter winds blowing through. We'll still be well below that altitude, I think."

"You ... think? We got no blankets, all I got's this feather-light dress o' Lattie's that's been half-cut away, an' no way t' light a fire up there, from what I hear tell."

"True, and also true. But the terrain between here and there shouldn't be all that dangerous - not like the sheer cliffs and narrow ledges we'll have to traverse up higher. I say we push on now, get to the scree zone while there's still enough light left to assess the situation, and then once we've seen what there is to see, we'll backtrack a ways so that we won't be so high up. We should be able to do that safely, even after dark. Then we can catch a good night's sleep in the foothills, and have a head start on tomorrow's climb to sweeten the deal ... assuming it does look like we can get through."

Palter radiated dubiosity, as he so often did. "I dunno. I was kinda lookin' for'ard to restin' here fer awhile, mebbe enjoyin' some more o' them Abbey vittles ... "

"The way you've been tucking into them, we won't have enough to get us through to the coastlands." Alex knew he was pointedly exaggerating, and hoped the rat could appreciate the jibe. In truth, even without outside help, Alex had planned on saving their provisions for the mountain crossing, where he knew they'd find nothing to succor or sustain them, subsisting until then on whatever meagre foraging the spring Plains could provide. That outside help had in fact materialized, however, in the form of delivery Sparra from Warbeak Loft, flying out yesterday and the day before that too, bearing with them each time a sack provided by Friar Hugh containing enough fresh Redwall fare to guarantee they'd not run low on food at anytime between the Plains and Salamandastron. Thus bolstered, they'd not had to do any foraging at all, and it looked like they wouldn't need to.

But the Sparra messengers had also made it clear that no further aid would come after their last delivery; it was simply too far afield for them to fly from the Abbey, especially laden with any meaningful quantity of food. Drawing within range of the foothills would also carry Alexander and Palter beyond the utmost limit of the sparrows' single-day flying abilities, and so the provisions they bore with them now were all the two journeyers would be getting to see them through to the coastlands. They were not likely to run short, but still it was a sobering reminder of just how much they were on their own now.

"Be glad our winged Abbey friends were able to help us out as they have, and that none of Urthblood's gulls or raptors were around to try to stop them," Alex went on. "If we'd been dependent on foraging, we'd find the pickings mighty slim, especially once we started our real climb onto the mountains proper. For most of that trail you'll find not so much as a blade of grass growing up between the cracks in the rocks. We might have found some berries, nuts and herbs between here and there, if we were lucky. Would have been all the more reason to try to crest the peaks and be back down the other side in a single day."

"Sounds loverly. I had my fill o' nibblin' grass 'n' leaves 'n' bark durin' our winter march t' Redwall, when our supplies ran low. Coulda done it again if'n I hadta, I reckon, but glad I don't hafta. But I was thinkin' more o' my legs than my stummick. They're achin' fer a rest 'fore we tackle any slopes or loose-shiftin' inclines."

Alex was reluctant to waste such time, especially considering the more leisurely pace they'd set for themselves, but two days of marching with Palter had driven home how the rat would wheedle and whine if pushed too hard. It all left Alex wondering just how Palter had managed to keep from collapsing that first day out, when the Gawtrybe had bustled him and Latura along at a constant jog, with no proper break at all.

"Okay. We'll stop here just long enough for you to rest up. But I don't want to lose too much of the remaining daylight by dawdling here overlong, so rest up fast!"

Palter grumbled and groused a bit at this seemingly contradictory enjoinder, but Alexander grudgingly joined him, forcing himself off his own footpaws for the duration of this rest break even though he would have preferred to be on his way. He could not deny to himself that, during all this hike since leaving Redwall, he'd pushed himself far more than he was used to, and scaling the heights before them might well prove nearly as much a challenge for him as for Palter. So, he imposed this respite upon his not-quite-protesting body. Even with their food situation well in paw thanks to the Sparra, they would not succeed in this endeavor if their bones and sinews failed them.

When he felt they'd rested long enough - although undoubtedly not as long as Palter would have liked - Alex called an end to their break and set off for the nearby foothills, not caring if the rat's own joints and muscles agreed with his assessment. Palter found himself left little choice and fell into step behind the squirrel.

The daylight held strong and steady through the first part of their ascent, even though the towering range rearing above them blocked the afternoon sunlight. They even paused once more to nibble a bit at their Abbey provisions, and found any number of mountain springs to ensure that their water pouches would not go dry.

Dusky evening held sway by the time they reached the site of the rockfall, and when they saw what awaited them there, they were glad not to be viewing the scene by the full light of day. The scattered debris told its own silent story of elemental fury, with relics ranging in size from gravel nuggets to boulders as big as entire cottages, all clearly dislodged and displaced by that afternoon's calamity. And if it failed to irrevocably bar the way to the two Salamandastron-bound seekers, it was clear that it had done quite enough.

Palter put a paw to his mouth and turned away upon realizing what he was looking at, glad for a change that his stomach wasn't any fuller. Alex forced down his own queasiness, knowing he had to more thoroughly study what had happened in this place.

"Squirrels died here," he grimly announced, not that Palter hadn't been able to figure that much out for himself. "The question is, how many?"

"Hope it was all of 'em!" Palter spat, then reconsidered. "Tho' I guess that wouldn't be good news fer Lattie, would it?"

Alex scouted around, examining the smashed remains as best he could to glean a better idea of the casualty assessment. In the end he was reduced to counting paws - about the only parts still easily identifiable - and came up with three. "At least two died here, although it could have been more. Who knows how many are lying beneath this rubble ... or whether they'd be in any state for us to tell for sure." He regarded the thick red smears on the rockface just above them, then hastily averted his gaze upon registering that the tattered fragments of a Gawtrybe tunic seemed to be ground into one of them.

Palter fidgeted further, having stepped back from the disturbing carnage. "You don't ... you don't s'pose it _is_ all of 'em, do you? Mebbe even Lattie?"

"One way to find out. Stay here." Alex vaulted and clambered over the rockspill spread across their path, making his way with care lest any of the newly-fallen obstructions shift under his weight. He returned in very short order with an encouraging nod. "There are tracks in the dust on the other side, continuing on up the trail. They were easy to spot, even in this light; the survivors certainly didn't make any effort to erase them. Several creatures, too - and one of them seems to be Latura."

The rat heaved an ineffectual sigh of relief. "Then, we c'n get across't? We c'n still go after her?"

Alex shot the other a sharp look. "This was never about 'going after' Latura, remember? She's already beyond us, and has been ever since our defeat back on the Plains." He studied the rubble field, and the rising trail beyond. "Although, if they were still here when we heard this rockslide this afternoon, they're not as far ahead of us as I'd imagined. I would have placed them at least a full day ahead of us, maybe two, especially considering the lack of avian escorts. Having to force Lattie along must be slowing them down."

"Yah, we rats're good at that, I guess, ain't we?"

Alex smirked. "Yes, but speed's a lot more important to them than to us. And if they were still making their climb in the mid-afternoon, they can't mean to make it all the way over in one day. They'd run out of light up on the high passes, and those are the most treacherous of all, not to even be contemplated at night." Again, he studied the scree. "Still, this is far too coincidental, that rockface giving way at the exact moment when it would take out part of Matowick's squad. Makes me wonder if they were trying to set up some kind of trap for us, and it backfired on them as surely as Mina's arrow meant for Lattie backfired on her."

"Um, but if they were settin' this as a trap, why would some of 'em been standin' down where they'd get smashed if somethin' went wrong?"

"The Gawtrybe are a pretty arrogant lot. Wouldn't surprise me if they were so confident in their abilities that it never occurred to them anything _could_ go wrong. Why, what do you think may've happened here?"

Palter took a moment answering. "Mebbe ... mebbe Lattie made it happen."

"I thought Latura only saw the future - not that she made it happen."

"So did I."

A thin, piercing, distant scream echoed down to them from higher above. Squirrel and rat stared upward, but the impassive mountain revealed nothing of what they were hearing as the phantom cry trailed away into the other sounds of the approaching night, making them doubt, if only for a moment, if it had ever been there at all.

"That was a death scream of terror, or I'm a toad," Alex said at last. "What the fur is happening on this mountain?"

"Reckon we're set t' find out when we climb it ourselves," Palter replied morosely.

"Yah. Reckon we will. Come on, let's get to the alcove we passed a while back, before this mountain decides to grind up any more squirrels. Although part of me is thinking maybe we should try to get off the mountain altogether before we settle down for the night. I'm not sure how safe I'd feel sleeping on any part of these slopes, given what we've just seen and heard."

Palter joined Alex in their plodding downward retreat, the squirrel looking to make some distance before the light failed completely. "If Lattie really is b'hind this," the rat mumbled, "don't see as it'll make any diff'rence where we stop. We'll be safe if we're meant t' be safe, an' if we ain't, don't matter where we go!"

00000000000

Arising well before sunrise, Alex decided to indulge in the luxury of a hot breakfast before tackling the mountain summit. This part of the foothills afforded just enough tree growth to supply wood for a cookfire, so he gathered up an armful of twigs and branches and had a modest blaze going by the time Palter stirred himself. Selecting one scone and one muffin for each of them from their Abbey provisions, Alex placed them on a rock slab above the fire to heat them. A short time later both journeybeasts were wolfing down their warmed delicacies, chased with clear mountain spring water to moisten each swallow. Then, attending to their personal needs and collecting their belongings, they struck off up the rising trail toward the more barren environs above.

The rubble field lay bathed in the spring morning sun when they came upon it for the second time. As much as Alex would have preferred to be past it quickly - a desire clearly shared by his skittish companion - he wanted to examine the scene of the Gawtrybe's misfortune by the full light of day, to see if he might glean any additional clues about this disaster. Nothing appeared to have shifted or slid since the previous evening, and the gruesome aftermath was no easier to stomach in brighter conditions than at dusk. Gritting his teeth and trying not to think too hard about it, the Redwall squirrel investigated the area more thoroughly than before, circling the tumbled rocks to inspect them from all angles and poking into irregular crevices that hadn't existed here at this time yesterday. At length he stood and addressed Palter with no particular expression on his face.

"I still can't tell whether only two of the Gawtrybe met their end here, or if it was more. It does look as if at least two survived, to judge by the tracks leading past this point ... and that Lattie was definitely with them. A rat's pawprints among squirrels' are rather easy to distinguish."

"Well, that's ... good, I guess. Not that there's really much good about any o' this."

"You said it. Come on, let's get going. If we can attain the high passes by noontime, or not long thereafter, we'll be in good shape. We'll have the sun with us on the other side, and that should see us most of the way down from these mountains by nightfall."

Palter had had enough of a rest to suit himself while Alexander inspected the area, and hardly had any appetite either for a change, and so was happy to be moving on. He did have trouble negotiating the debris field, lacking a squirrel's nimbleness or even a normal rat's agility and strength, and Alex was forced to help him along, grabbing Palter's paw to haul him over and around the rocks and boulders.

As they struggled past the last of the obstructions, Palter was heard to mutter, "Wish this would happen t' ev'ry Gawtrybe, ev'rywhere. It's what they deserve."

"Nobeast deserves an end like this," Alex countered, silently remarking to himself what a terrible thing that was for the rat to say - and more than a little alarmed to find that he couldn't really disagree with such a sentiment all that much after all.

By midmorning, after leaving the foothills well behind them and venturing into a zone more barren and craggy than any they'd traversed so far, Palter's appetite recovered sufficiently for him to request another stop. Alex consented, knowing it would likely be their last chance to rest in any manner of even marginal comfort before they hit the most grueling - and harrowing - leg of this crossing.

And as he joined the rat in nibbling at some bread and sipping at their pouches, he remembered the ghostly, bloodcurdling scream from the evening before, and wondered whether another ghastly tableau awaited them ahead.

Resuming their climb, they soon passed from rocky trails and canyons merely barren to those truly forbidding, with steep inclines needing to be scaled on all fours and precipitous drops off to either left or right - or, in one spot that nearly prevented Palter from going on, to both sides at once, a narrow bridge just paces wide with a sheer abyss at either paw. One misstep along any of these perilous stretches would end a traveller's life swiftly and surely, and leave their smashed remains lying so deep that they might as well have vanished from the face of the world.

The air grew thinner with each step, until Alex and Palter huffed and gasped with every labored breath, and the winds picked up until they became a constant punishing gust whipping at ears and whiskers, numbing paws in spite of the day's abundant sunshine - warming rays blocked more often than not by the rock walls rising around them on all sides. It reminded Alex anew why this pass had remained hidden for so long ... and why, even today, only the most daring or desperate of journeybeasts would even attempt it.

And then they came to specific sites that loomed especially large in Alexander's memory. A large hollow appeared on their left, backed by a widely curving wall, and the squirrel vividly recalled a night spent shivering up here in the company of Mina, Machus and his foxes, and the other soldiers of Urthblood's forces making their way from Redwall to Salamandastron. And he knew that also meant the tiny fissure in the hard ground to their right - now little more than a hairline crack in the surface - would widen a short way ahead until it became a yawning chasm into the deepest of dark voids in the earth.

Many of his companions from that previous excursion no longer lived, but at least none had gone over the edge and perished here, not even during their less-than-amicable run-in with the Long Patrol headed in the opposite direction. The trick now was to get himself and Palter past that narrow ledge over oblivion with the same success and preservation of life as on his prior foray over these heights.

They were about to find out, however, that fate did not intend for things to go quite so smoothly this time.

Rounding the bend of the mountain ledge at the same spot where the opposing parties had confronted each other two summers before, with the heart-stopping drop falling away to their right, Alex and Palter kept themselves to the rearing cliff face on their left, sometimes literally rubbing shoulders with it as if the impassive, uncaring rock might take hold of them and catch them if they should stumble. The rat's heart was in his mouth, as it had been any number of times during the more dangerous segments of this crossing, and he frequently paused, taking a few moments to stand still with eyes screwed shut, escaping into some inner place of safety before having to open his eyes again and resume his nervewracking progress. For his own part, Alex shared much of Palter's anxiety, but refused to let it show, for what would be the point of that?

But then he beheld a sight before him that made him reveal his unease after all.

"Uh oh."

Palter, coming to a sudden halt behind the stopped squirrel but unable to fully see around him, quailed at Alexander's dire utterance. "Uh oh? Whaddya mean, uh oh? That ain't sumpthin' a beast wants t' hear in a place like this. What's th' - oh, my pore old muther's sodden soul!" Getting a jockeying glimpse past his companion at last, the color instantly drained from Palter's features, leaving him white as a sheet.

Before them, a section of the narrow, mountain-hugging ledge, only wide enough for two beasts to walk abreast of each other and then only if one was especially bold and fearless, had collapsed altogether, leaving a gap in their only path forward.

"This must be where we heard that scream from last evening," said Alex. "The ledge gave way as they were going over it, pitching at least one more of Matowick's party over the edge."

"That can't be right," Palter challenged, his horrified gaze fixed on the missing portion of rock shelf. "We were so far back behind this place - 'ow could we o' heard it?"

"Look down at that chasm," Alex explained, pointing down to their right, although Palter resisted the suggestion, instead pressing himself tighter against the wall to their left. "I can see that acting like one huge echo chamber. And that network of canyons and gullies we passed through on our way here could well have served as a sound reflecting terrain, relaying that doomed wretch's final cry all the way down to the foothills where we could hear it."

"Almost like we was meant to ... like fate intended us to. Mebbe t'was a warnin' we weren't meant t' go on ... "

Alex glanced over his shoulder at Palter. "You're the one who had to 'go to sea.' As I recall, the rest of us tried to talk you out of making this trek."

"Well, didn't know it'd lead to sumpthin' like _this_! Ain't there some other path or trail we could take? This can't be th' only way through alla these mountains."

"It's the only way _I_ know. So unless you plan on sprouting wings, or getting one of Urthblood's birds to carry you the rest of the way over these peaks, the only other alternative is to retrace our steps all the way back to the Plains, and then go the long way around the range to the south or north - which would take the rest of this season, and maybe into next as well."

"Um ... er. So, whadda we do now?"

"We keep going."

"But ... ain't nowhere _to_ go."

Alex studied the gap in the narrow ledge. "I can jump that. Even bearing my bow and my provisions, I can jump that easily. And that means you should be able to too."

Palter stared at Alexander as if the squirrel was insane. "You ... you can't ... I mean ... I ain't no treejumper like you, ner any hare neither!"

"No, and you're not even much of a rat. But I'm going on. You either make the jump too, or you get left behind. The choice is yours."

"I'd never make it!"

"I think you can."

"What if ye're wrong?"

"Then that would mean Latura's wrong too."

"Huh? Whadd're ya talikn' 'bout?"

"Make the jump. If Lattie's right and you really do have to go to sea, you can't possibly die here. Fate will protect you, and make sure you don't fail."

This logic threw Palter for a total loss. To have his own assertive faith in Latura turned back on him in such a manner cast him into utter mental disarray, and left him unsure how to respond. At last he said, weakly, "But I can't see myself makin' it."

"Then maybe that's your problem right there: You're so busy dwelling on what you can't do, you never bother sparing a thought to what you can do. Picture yourself making it - picture Lattie wanting you to make it - and just maybe you'll surprise yourself."

Palter gazed toward the abyss, still supremely ill at ease, when a terrible thought occurred to him. "Lattie's decrees, they don't allers mean what they might seem ta on th' surface. What if there's some underworld stream down there at th' very bottom, that'll carry my corpse out t' sea if I did fall 'n' die? That'd still be Lattie's prophecy comin' true. I'd just not be alive t' make it happen."

"I can't speak to that. I suppose any cryptic pronouncement can be cut apart in so many ways, to look for any meaning you want to find. But I'm making the jump. You can either come with me, or turn around and go back the way we came. But I'm not waiting around here all day for you to make up your mind. One way or the other, we'll both want to be down off this mountain by day's end."

"How do we know they didn't all fall here, ev'ry single one of 'em? Mebbe Lattie an' th' rest of those Gawtrybe never made it past here, an' we ain't meant to neither."

"We don't know. Not for sure. But does your gut tell you Latura was fated to die here, after all she's been through? Mine doesn't."

Palter mulled this over. "Tell ya what. You make yer jump, then scout around on the other side, see if you can pick up any o' their tracks. If it looks like Lattie 'n' any o' the others made it across alive an' kept goin' - if it looks like there'd be any point in us takin' that risk ourselves - then I'll ... I'll try it. But I ain't riskin' my neck if there ain't no reason."

Alex considered this proposal. "How's your throwing arm?"

"What?"

"I'm not making that jump twice. Once I'm across, I'm across for good. I said I could manage it with my own weapons and supplies - not with yours and mine both. It'll be up to you to get yourself and everything of yours over. And since I gather you'll not want to attempt the jump weighed down by anything, you'll have to throw it across to me."

Palter mulled this over, his flagrant dubiosity on display once more, and said, "I dunno. Castin' stuff about ain't never been my strong point. Not sure o' my range, or my aim. I'd hate t' fling it an' have it fall short, or go wide - an' I don't wanna see you goin' over the edge yerself reachin' after it."

"Not much chance of that. I'll not risk myself for your belongings. If you can't make the throw straight and true, then it's on you, and we'll both be on half rations the rest of the way to Salamandastron."

Palter continued to putter and hem and haw in indecision. At last Alex snatched the rat's haversack right out of his feeble paws and hurled it across the gap, where it landed with a solid thump on the other side. "There. Some of your scones and tarts might be a little smashed, but at least they're across. If you decide not to make the attempt, I'll throw them back to you, and you can be on your way back to Redwall or wherever else you want to go. Now, back up a score of paces or so; I'll need a running start for this."

Alex decided to toss his own provisions across too, so as not to be encumbered by anything more than his bow, quiver and blade. Kneeling at the lip of the crumbled pathway, he gingerly felt and tapped at it to test for its integrity. "Hmm. Wish I had a mole here with us now. Stone lore's hardly my area of expertise, and I'd hate to have this give way beneath me just as I'm making my leap. It seems solid enough, so I'll just have to assume that it is. Although ... "

Palter voiced his newest worry. "But, if you don't make it, now all our food's across on the other side! That was a stupid thing t' do! What'm I s'posed t' do if y' slip an' fall?"

"Then you get to hurry back down to the Plains as fast as you can and forage the rest of your way to wherever you decide to go. Now stand back and don't distract me, because that's the surest way to make your fears become reality."

Palter retreated and fell appreciatively silent as Alex gathered himself for his perilous effort, then sprinted forward. To the rat's breathless surprise, Alex didn't simply launch himself in a single, straightforward leap from lip to lip, but instead propelled himself at a slight sideways angle, making contact with the cliff wall halfway across the collapsed span. Kicking off the rockface on a new trajectory, he effortlessly alighted on the opposite side, just barely avoiding the food sacks.

Palter gaped. "I ... I hope y' ain't expectin' me t' do _that_!"

"Hardly. For a squirrel like me, that was the safest, surest way, giving my flight a little extra boost at the midway point. No other species would be acrobatic enough to attempt such a feat - maybe not even a hare. It won't be as easy for you, having to jump straight across, but I think you can do it."

"I ... I ain't so sure ... "

"Of course you're not. But stop thinking about not being sure, and think about Lattie instead. Think about her prophecy protecting you. Think about how you can't die here, because then you won't get to sea. For that matter, stop thinking about anything. Just do it."

"Ahh ... but you said you was gonna scout around first, see if there were any tracks or signs anybeast made it across't ... "

"I did say that, didn't I? Very well ... " The adrenaline rush of his death-defying effort hardly left Alexander of a temperament for such mundane and painstaking work, but he applied himself to it anyway, hunching over to inspect the hard path on his side of the sundered trail. His examination took him manyscore paces forward, right around the continuing curve of the mountain flank until he was lost to sight from Palter. Just as the rat began to grow anxious that some ill had befallen the Abbeybeast, Alex reappeared, striding back into view with a confident gait.

"There are tracks. Not many, and not easy to see, but they're there, and they're recent. There were survivors, and they went on."

"How many? An' who?"

"Can't tell. So, are you coming, or do I toss your provisions back to you?"

Palter stood a long time, saying nothing, just staring at the interrupted ledgeway. Alex kicked the two haversacks farther back away from the lip, so that the rat would have plenty of landing room if he did decide to make the jump.

Closing his eyes, Palter seemed about to lose his nerve entirely, then his eyes snapped open again and he went into a mad rush toward the gap. Springing from his side with a good deal less athleticism than might normally be expected from a beast of his seasons, he nevertheless made himself airborne, hurtling toward the far side with the best effort he could muster, pitiful as it might be.

Alex stayed near the rim, heeding some inner sense telling him to hold to this spot, confident in his ability to quickly spin out of the way if Palter needed room to land. But the squirrel quickly saw he would not need to dodge; Palter had jumped too soon, too far before the lip on his side, choosing the surety of a solid launching place over the risk of waiting a stride too late and toppling over the edge. This strategy may have served him well for his takeoff, but it did not bode well for his touchdown.

Palter was going to come up short, and fatally so.

"Arms out! Arms out, toward me!" Alex yelled, bracing himself to catch the flailing rat if he was at all able to.

Palter, sensing he was most likely about to plummet to his death, somehow cobbled together the straight sense through his panic to obey his companion's directive, and flung his desperate arms out before him as far as he could.

Alex - mindful not to lean too far out over the lethal drop himself - caught hold of Palter's wrists, gripping them tightly. In the same motion he kicked his legs backwards out from under him, sending himself flat on his belly against the stone ledge. He knew such a maneuver might knock the wind out of him and force him to lose his grip on the rat, but it would also stabilize him and ground his center of gravity to keep from being dragged over the edge himself.

Somehow Alex managed to hold on, as Palter swung forward pendulum-like and slammed into the sheared-off ledge below. Hoping the impact hadn't stunned the rat into a stupor of dead weight, Alex yelled down, "Use your footpaws against the side! Try to get any grip that way you can, and push yourself up toward me as I pull! I can't do this by myself!"

To the Redwaller's relief, his dangling burden responded at once, not in word but in action, adding just enough upward momentum to enable Alex to haul Palter up over the lip to safety. The squirrel gave silent thanks for the other's scrawny physique; the very lack of brawn which had made Palter come up short now helped save him, letting his rescuer pull him up as if the rat were little more than a youngbeast.

For many moments the two of them simply sat there, huffing and puffing as they gazed at each other. At last Palter forced out, "You ... y' saved ... my life ... "

"Yeah. Maybe that was part of Latura's prophecy too ... "

"Much ... much obliged."

"Not at all. It's what any Redwaller would do."

Palter levered himself into a more fully upright sitting position, back braced against the cliff face to put himself as far as possible from the abyss which had just nearly claimed him. "Mind if ... if we just ... rest here ... fer a bit?"

"Just for a bit. But we'll want to be moving on before too long. We still have a lot of mountain to get across, and only so much daylight left to us. Let's just hope we don't come across anymore collapsed high ledges!"


	22. Chapter 94

**CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR**

As the _Goodwill_ hove into view of Salamandastron's rough rock pier, Captain Ramjohn's brow furrowed at the sight of the red, black and green sails on display there.

"Searats!" the grizzled mouse spat. "T'was hopin' to avoid 'em durin' this landfall - aside from their snot-nosed, snaggle-fanged Ambassador. He's all the searat I care t' stomach at one time!"

His otter first mate Chobor stood on the wheeldeck alongside him, regarding the scene himself with equal distaste if a modicum of pragmatism. "Well, Cap'n, now that they've got their Accord in place, I reckon searats're free t' come an' go at Salamountain as they please. Not surprisin' we're findin' 'em here. T'was a time when those colors anywhere near these shores meant an invasion or incursion, but if that giant red badger standard I see flappin' atop that plateau means aught, I'd say they've not captured their coveted prize this day. 'Sides which, wouldn't ya rather be runnin' inta them moored up here than out on the open main?"

"Pah! Wouldn't put it past those seabrutes to try 'n' board an' inspect us right under Lord Urthblood's nose to demand more tribute ... or past that badger t' look the other way while they did. After gettin' stopped three times so far this season by those bullies - an' having to surrender a larger share of my cargo each time - I ain't lookin' t' get legally plundered so much as one sack or crate more'n I already have!"

"Aye, that's what we're here t' put a stop to if we can, Cap'n. Here's hopin' we'll meet with success, or else it'll be a lean summer to go along with our lean spring!"

A short time later, shaping the prevailing winds to their will, Ramjohn steered his vessel into a clear berth along the jetty, just across the narrow dock from the searat galleon the _Redfoam_, her canvases still unfurled in full imperial glory in spite of the ship riding at anchor and being tied up to the pier. Members of her unsavory crew could be seen laboring or lounging or standing guard abovedecks, regarding the woodlanders with suspicious ire as Ramjohn and Chobor disembarked. Mouse and otter did their best to ignore the ruffians even while keeping a close watch on them out of the corners of their eyes. Not that they genuinely anticipated any real trouble here; whatever other shortcomings Urthblood might have, and whatever seafaring goodbeasts might think of the present state of oceangoing affairs, it remained a certainty that the current Badger Lord of this fortress would tolerate no strife on his doorstep.

Or so Ramjohn hoped as he and Chobor passed under the baleful gazes of the _Redfoam_'s leering crew.

Moored just ahead of the _Goodwill_ was a cheerier sight, one to encourage the two goodbeasts in spite of the searat presence. Chobor nodded toward their companion trader vessel, a familiar old friend of sorts. "See th' _Stronganchor_'s tied up here too. Wonder what business Cap'n Wakefern's got at Salam'dastron these days?"

"Could be same as ours, for all we know. We'll find out shortly." Ramjohn and his first mate traded hale and hearty salutations with the _Stronganchor_'s crew as they passed, exchanging a few bawdy jabs and risque ripostes with friends not seen in a season or more. Working their way past the other ship to the head of the pier, they found another mouse waiting to greet them.

"Ahoy, Cap'n Ramjohn!" Abellon welcomed his nautical counterpart with free cheer. "Not seen you nor th' _Goodwill_ here in a badger's age! Lord Urthblood still owes you big for your help in that Snoga mess, so we'll always make a warm an' open berth for you here at Salamandastron! What brings you here this day? No ill wind, I hope?"

"How ill a wind 'tis depends on what your Lord has t' say to my concerns," Ramjohn replied as he clasped Abellon's paw. Glancing over his shoulder at the searats, he added in a grumbled mutter, "An' what certain other creatures have t' say for themselves too ... "

"Ah. I can guess what's on your mind then - an' I gather it's much the same that brought you here to these shores summer last, before we even had a jetty for you to tie up at, even if circumstances now aren't quite as hostile or barbaric as they were then. But it just so happens Lord Urthblood's already in the midst of negotiations even as we speak that touch upon that very subject, and a great deal more, too. So I'd say your timing was most fortuitous - we'll just find room at the table for you as well!"

"Hmm. Not sure what you're goin' on about, but if Wakefern's involved, it's gotta be on the up-an'-up. I'll take it as a good sign, then - along with bein' met out here by a fellow mouse. I was expectin' a phalanx of those red-furred, bushtailed treejumpers your badger surrounds 'imself with. They happen t' be elsewise engaged, I assume?"

"In a manner of speakin'. Most've been reassigned to Mossflower to oversee things there, so we're down to about a hundred from the three hundred you saw here before. That leaves the rest of us mice, 'hogs an' Mattoon's weasels bearin' more responsibilities, but as long as the Accord holds, we don't need as many defenders - an' if it should fail, we got all our battlebirds to put Tratton right back in his place again!"

"Hmm. Guess that makes sense. Leave it to that badger to have everything worked out to the smallest eyelet an' grommet!"

Halfway up the sandy coastal slope between the pier and the main entrance to the mountain fortress Abellon halted, spotting a large group approaching from the south just above the tideline. "Hold just a bit, friends. I'd like to see how things went with this assignment, make sure there's no problem. It's our first batch, you know. Let's head down that way for a closer look - unless the two of you would rather head right inside?"

"Not at all," Ramjohn replied, speaking for both himself and Chobor, who was just as curious about the mixed group to the south. "It'll give us a little more chance to get out land legs back. Lead th' way, Cap'n!"

Abellon gave a friendly smirk. "Y know, it might get a mite confusing, two mice callin' each other 'Cap'n' all the time!"

"Only for us pore ol' salty dogs standin' by tryin' t' figger it all out!" Chobor put in with a laugh.

Abellon led the two visitors away from the soaring portal and across the sand around to the southwest foot of Salamandastron, better positioning themselves to sooner receive the oncoming company. It took some time for the large group of newcomers to resolve itself even to the two sailorbeasts' sharp eyes, but Ramjohn was content to hold his ground to satisfy his piqued curiosity.

And the most curious aspect to the procession was the gulls who circled and wheeled low above it, as if providing additional protection from the air. But as it became clear who the ground creatures were, the gulls' presence made sense. Roughly twoscore rats, dressed in woodlander garb which may have been almost fine at one time but now showed the abundant wear and tear of a forced march, were being herded along by half that number of Urthblood's weasels - the difference being that the soldierbeasts were armed, while the rats were not. Some of the rodents' paws were bound, and some were even bound to each other, although all legs remained unencumbered for marching. Not for running or escaping, though - the strength of gulls and weasels saw to that.

Many of the rats wore blank expressions of dazed fatigue, seemingly unsure of where they even were. But where some semblance of emotion did shine through the weariness, that emotion was uniformly fear and apprehension of what awaited them at the end of this nightmarish march, and what would come next.

Ramjohn didn't need to hear any explanation to know what was going on here before Mattoon puffed to a stop before them. "We need a boat!" the weasel officer grunted. "Two days' poundin' 'cross shiftin' sand wears a beast out, it does!"

"One of the things His Lordship's negotiatin' for right now, unless I'm mistaken." Abellon gestured to his guests. "You remember Cap'n Ramjohn, of the _Goodwill_, an' his first mate, don't you?"

Mattoon gave a noncommittal nod of acknowledgment, too tired for any more extravagant hospitality.

"Any trouble?" Abellon inquired, turning more serious.

"From this timid bunch? Naw, they were broken in just fine by th' Gawtrybe an' then by Choock's shrews after that, an' now they're docile as babes. Course, we made it clear to 'em what they'd be in fer if they weren't. Took 'em off our shrew comrades' paws down at th' transfer point right on schedule, an' now those scruffy spikefurs're headed back inland fer th' next lot, soon as enuff 've been collected." Mattoon gave a chuff. "Hope we've got a boat by then."

Ramjohn and Chobor looked on, not sure what to make of the sight before them - or how to feel about it. Both had been present the previous summer for the signing of the Accord, and the surprise provision apparently thrown in at the last moment promising Tratton all the rats of the lands in exchange for freeing his woodlander slaves, and had been on paw to witness the first phase of that exchange, with Urthblood's other troops force-marching the dazed and disbelieving rat soldiers up onto the searat ships while the equally dazed and disbelieving former slaves filed down onto the shore and into the mountain, scarcely daring to accept this turn of events.

Ramjohn had wondered more than once in the seasons since whether any of those soldier rats he'd seen depart that day still drew breath. It would be like Tratton not to trust them to live, and given the way the searats had always treated their slaves, a mass execution seemed not entirely out of the question. But these were the affairs of Lords and Kings, and the business of Urthblood and Tratton, not a simple sea trader captain such as himself. And while Ramjohn wished no harm upon anybeast who didn't deserve it, he felt it was hardly his place to insert himself into the diplomacy of a war between major powers, and the agreements reached to stop that war.

But now, seeing these hapless rats of wood and field swaying on their paws from exhaustion, and the hollow, haunted, confused looks in their eyes ... these were not soldierbeasts who might have been prepared for killing and dying and capture. Some here were still youngrats, and some were old, and while more than a few presented the air of hardbitten ruffians and brigands with evil deeds in their past, even they seemed beaten down and hopelessly lost at the plight in which they now found themselves. But other faces were innocent of such dark history, and these drove home to the seamouse just what a cost this arrangement between Tratton and Urthblood would amount to.

Suppressing any misgivings, Ramjohn addressed Abellon. "You said this was only the first batch? After all this time? The Accord was signed three seasons ago; I'd've thought Lord Urthblood would be a lot farther along with this ... "

"Oh, he is. First batch from Mossflower is what I meant. Lord Urthblood decided to start in the Northlands - which makes sense, since that was where all his other campaigns started. All last fall 'n' winter was spent clearing out that region, an' from all I've heard, there's hardly a rat left there anywhere, an' maybe none at all. Our forces can be very thorough when we set our minds to it. Well, now it's Mossflower's turn, an' that oughta keep us busy 'tween now an' summer's end."

"Ah. Well, that's, uh ... "

"Is Cap'n Matowick back at th' mountain yet?" Mattoon asked Abellon. "He 'n' his Gawtrybe were s'posed to be in charge o' this whole processin' business, tho' with him sent away on that unexpected assignment an' 'is wife the 'tenant on maternal leave, wouldn't be surprised if'n more o' that falls on th' rest of us."

Abellon glanced back at the _Redfoam_. "Not sure how much 'processing' will need to be done, with our searat friends already on scene. Lord Urthblood's got the holding chambers all ready 'n' waiting for transfers, but we might not even need 'em this time - just march this gang right up onto the ship when the searats're ready for 'em. But as for Matti, last I heard, his squad was over th' mountains an' oughta be gettin' back any time now."

"His squad?" Mattoon asked in surprise. "He ain't got his squad with 'im."

"What do you mean?" Abellon prompted, taken aback. "Why wouldn't he?"

Mattoon pointed skyward. "Some o' our gulls've been flyin' higher an' rangin' out ahead o' us, an' they reported seein' Matti comin' down from th' mountains all alone, 'cept fer one rat who was with 'im."

"A rat?" Abellon showed clear puzzlement. "Well, where's th' rest of his squad? A half-dozen of 'em set out when they left. And who's the rat? Where'd he come from? Is he part of the mission Matti was sent on?"

The weasel gave a tired shrug. "Yer guesses 're good as mine, Abbs. Wouldn'ta known any o' this t'weren't fer a few strayin' gulls, an' looks like His Lordship ain't 'xactly keepin' th' rest o' you filled in either. Like ev'rything else 'bout Matti's dispatchin', it's got an air o' mystery 'bout it, it does." Mattoon turned to his fellow weasels and issued orders for the captive rats to lower themselves to the sands. Tired as they were, the prisoners complied without complaint - which allowed the equally tired weasels to sit down and get off their own footpaws for a much-needed rest.

For their commander, however, such a respite would have to wait. "Best head right in to report - not that Lord Urthblood won't know we're here already. You goin' in too?"

Abellon nodded, indicating Ramjohn and Chobor. "'Course. Doesn't pay t' keep honored visitors waitin' out on the beach, now does it?"

00000000000

Whiskersalt wore a perpetual stoop.

But those hunched, broad shoulders stood in direct contrast to the upstanding regard in which he was held by his fellow sea otters. And while Whiskersalt captained no vessel of his own, all the other captains who plied the wide main, be they otters themselves or other honest creatures, looked to this crusty old sea salt as a wise and seasoned sage of the waves, and an unspoken leader of all mariners.

One of those mariners, long known to Whiskersalt, now strode through the main seaward-facing entrance of Salamandastron with his equally-familiar first mate at his side, escorted by Captains Abellon and Mattoon. The burly otter chieftain stepped forward from Urthblood's side to issue a hearty greeting to these old acquaintances.

"Ramjohn, ye old seamouse!" Whiskersalt declared as he took the smaller creature in a brotherly embrace, slapping Ramjohn cheerily on the back before turning to the mouse's companion with equal enthusiasm. "An' Chobor th' Great, ablest first mate on th' high seas! If ever there was a river otter born in th' wrong place, it was you! A natural to wave 'n' wake, ye are!"

Ramjohn shook off the friendly pounding while the two otters delighted in an amiable pummeling contest, then stood back from each other. "Cap'n Whiskers," the mouse said, "didn't think I'd be findin' you here, of all seadogs."

Whiskersalt puffed out the impressive growth of fur above his upper lip that formed a formidable drooping mustache, merging with his heavy sea otter's whiskers so smoothly it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. "Well, I'm sure you saw the _Stronganchor_ tied up at th' pier, an' Cap'n Wakefern 'ere - " Whiskersalt hooked a crooked pawthumb over his shoulder at the river-sea otter halfbreed flanking the stoic Badger Lord, " - 'ee was gracious 'nuff t' sail me up here for this liddle jawflap with Lord Urthblood. Got a lot t' discuss, but we decided t' take a break when we heard you were pullin' up t' dock. Glad t'was you, an' not more searats."

Ramjohn and Chobor's faces twisted at the mention of this disfavored species. "Do y' get a lot of those sorts here these days?"

"Couldn't say, matey. First time in the badger mountain in ages fer me, tho' I hear there's a ratfaced Ambassador skulkin' 'round 'ere somewheres. Hasn't had th' gumption to show 'is pinched snout while I been here - not that I'm grousin' over it, ho no!"

"I've met 'im," Ramjohn stated, his face remaining dour, "an' you ain't missin' much." Behind him, Chobor nodded his agreement. "So, what've you 'n' Lord Urthblood been discussin'?"

"This, that an' other things. I'll leave that t' him to tell you all about, if 'ee's so inclined. Not sure it's mouse business, tho' yore buddy there might find it of interest."

"Ah. Otter affairs, is it? Well, I'm here t' talk about matters of concern to all seafaring species, otters and otherwise, and the folk of the lands who depend upon what we bring 'em. Hope you 'n' Lord Urthblood'll be able t' fit me inta your agenda."

"Always room fer th' most famous 'n' fearsome mouse cap'n of th' sea lanes, far as I'm concerned!" Whiskersalt turned back to the badger. "Uh, speakin' fer myself, that is. Not meanin' t' be presumptuous or speak outta turn, Lord."

"Not at all. I considered this a convenient juncture to take a break from our discussions, since I wished to take Captain Mattoon's report directly, and am also expecting the imminent arrival of another visitor of note, and this will provide me the opportunity to properly address both matters. We may resume our conversation later this afternoon or this evening, after I have seen to all else. At that time, Captain Ramjohn will of course be more than welcome to join us."

"Thank you, Lord," the mouse acknowledged with a deferential nod. "That other visitor of note you mentioned - anything to do with those searats tied up out there?"

"As it happens, no, not directly. This is a separate matter entirely, but one of no less import."

"Such is th' lot of beasts great an' powerful," Whiskersalt weighed in. "Always competin' an' conflictin' affairs vyin' fer our attention - tho' I daresay ye've got far more on yore plate than I ever did, Lord."

"Is it Captain Matowick?" Abellon inquired of his badger master. "Captain Mattoon just told me the gulls spotted him coming down from the mountains earlier today, but without the rest of his squad - just a lone rat. Was this ... expected?"

"His arrival and prisoner, yes. As for the lack of his fellow Gawtrybe, it appears their squad encountered certain difficulties during their crossing of the range, with some manner of misfortune befalling them. I am confident Captain Matowick will be able to provide us the necessary details when he gets here."

Abellon was not ready to let the subject lie, not even in the face of Urthblood's dismissive tone of finality. "And this rat he bears with him - might that mark his mission as a success, or a failure?"

"Supreme success, Captain - if it is the right rat. Otherwise, I fear we may have spent more than we can afford to lose, with nothing to show for it. Time will prove which is the case. But for now, let us get you all retired to the dining hall once more, this time not to engage in serious talk but to give Captain Ramjohn the proper welcome he warrants as a witness to the Accord's signing."

"All due respect, Lord," Ramjohn begged to differ, "but I do have matters of my own to discuss, which've brought me to your home once more - an' if it's all th' same, I'd just as soon get down to brass tacks, if you've no objections."

"Then I regret I must disappoint you, Captain. As soon as I have seen to your immediate comfort, I must be away to attend to these other needs, and will have no time to spare for substantive talks until a later hour. My apologies in advance."

Ramjohn shrugged. "Ah well then. What's an extra half day here 'n' there, long as it gets addressed in its own good time?"

Whiskersalt clapped Ramjohn on the shoulders, holding back his full strength so as not to send the mouse sprawling. "What'd I tell ye, matey? Always bein' pulled in two directions at once, an' always needin' t' be somewhere else besides where he is!"

00000000000

Something was wrong with the long glass.

Urthblood stood out on the open mountainside balcony - the very same terrace, in fact, where Perricone and Ambassador Erzath had shared their less-than-cordial moments just a day earlier - surveying the coastlands to the north. Having seen to the comfort of his latest guests in the dining hall and then taking Captain Mattoon's report in private, Urthblood had proceeded straight here to look to Captain Matowick's arrival.

That very squirrel now strode plainly in the monocular field of the telescope, crossing the sands toward the mountain fortress on a course to carry him past it to the north and thence around to the main seaward-facing entrance. A contingent of welcoming gulls flew close escort low above the plodding Gawtrybe officer, providing the extra security his missing teammates were not present to supply. And with Matowick walked the creature uppermost in the Badger Lord's mind, the figure from his visions of many seasons.

Or so he could only assume. Overeager to catch his first glimpse of this mysterious entity he'd so long searched out and quested after, he ventured out here even at the cost of playing a less hospitable host than he'd have preferred, where the long glass might at last give shape to this taunting phantom who'd only ever been a shadow to his inner eye.

Except that now, he still could not make her out. At first he imagined this prophetic ratmaid who'd cost him so much must possess some uncanny knack for always positioning herself directly behind Matowick from the badger's elevated vantage, obscuring herself with every step, perfectly aligning with her squirrel escort so that she would, against all odds and probability, remain veiled from his sight. Such a tendency, farfetched for any ordinary creature, would fit perfectly with what he might expect from his present prize.

But the longer he watched, and the more he narrowed his gaze and focused his attention, the more certain he grew that something else was going on here. Too many times - too many fleeting, uneven moments - the rat appeared to slip out of synchronicity with Matowick and emerge at least partway from behind the squirrel's eclipse. Even if just an arm, a leg, a tail ... and yet she remained clouded somehow, dark, shadowed even in the full light of day. She was there, and yet she wasn't.

The long glass must be malfunctioning somehow. And yet this obvious assessment stood belied by the clarity of Matowkick's fur, the wind-rippled texture clear in Urthblood's field of view, almost down to the individual strand. And the gulls, too, the ribbing of their larger feathers plain to see. Only the rat ... only the rat ...

Urthblood slowly lowered the instrument, facing the conclusion that lay beyond even his otherworldly purview. Of all the things he might have anticipated from this moment, he had not expected this.

"It cannot be," he murmured to himself. Then, compacting the long glass against the heavy iron cap covering his right wrist, he turned and strode from the terrace to see whether such an impossibility could, truly, be.


	23. Chapter 95

**CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE**

Word quickly spread throughout Salamandastron of Matowick's impending arrival, along with rampant speculation as to the identity of his prisoner and the whereabouts of the other five Gawtrybe who'd left with him earlier that season. By the time Urthblood made his way down to the main entry hall, many of the Gawtrybe lined the walls and overlooking gallery, along with a number of curious mice and hedgehogs as well. All the captains were there too - Abellon, Tillamook and the recently-returned Mattoon, straying a bit in his rat-guarding responsibilities to hear for himself what Matowick had to say.

The badger did and said nothing to discourage such assembling, and if he might have wished for a more private setting in which to receive his squirrel captain, he gave no outward indication of such a desire. Perhaps he felt his soldierbeasts deserved the opportunity to be present, or perhaps he wanted them here, in anticipation of some event he preferred be widely witnessed. As always, his motives could only be guessed at as he stood impassively waiting in the center of the entry chamber.

And then a hush fell as a lone figure appeared in the gateway, backlit against the brighter daylight and the shimmering ocean. Matowick strode slowly and purposefully up into the mountain, his cadence making every step seem a labored effort. He glanced about in surprise at all his waiting comrades as his eyes adjusted, and his red-armored Lord as well.

Matowick was quite alone.

"Captain," Urthblood rumbled in mild concern, "where is your prisoner?"

"Outside, Lord. The gulls are watching her."

"Bring her in, please."

"I ... don't think I should, sir."

Urthblood showed visible surprise for a second time, hardly expecting his senior Gawtrybe commander to adopt such a contrary attitude. "Why not, Captain?"

"I don't think it's safe. I think it's best she not enter the mountain."

"Explain."

Matowick stepped right up to his master, lowering his voice. "Lord, wouldn't you care to debrief someplace more ... private? You may not want so many ears listening in to what I have to say."

"Salamandastron might be large, Captain, but not so large that secrets can be kept here for long. Speculation has already run rife surrounding your mission. Words spoken in secret now will only find their way out in due time. Better to dispel all inaccurate supposition and rumor, and be open about it. Now, please have the prisoner escorted in."

Matowick all but glared at Urthblood with sunken, haunted eyes. "Aren't you even going to ask what happened to the rest of my team?"

The badger paused in consideration, sensing the gravity of the question's intent, and the importance Matowick seemed to place upon it. "What happened to them, Captain?"

"They're dead. They're all dead." Matowick stepped closer to the Badger Lord, even as his tone grew more strident, tinged perhaps by the faintest edge of controlled hysteria. "And she made it happen. Brisson and Flaquer and Selen, brave and stout squirrels all, smashed and pulverized and smeared across the mountainside by a fall of boulders that unleashed itself at the very moment we were passing underneath. And later on, a perilous rock ledge that splintered and thrust up underpaw, just as we were traversing it, with such violence that Nixalis was all but launched into the abyss to his doom. His screams ... but the worst was Delk, who leaned out too far to gaze after Nixalis ... leaned out just a little too far, like a pup who simply didn't know any better ... and then he was gone too, without so much as a grunt of surprise." Matowick's cold gaze fixed upon Urthblood. "Gawtrybe do not simply lean out too far and lose their balance, and plummet to their deaths without a cry of alarm or protest. Not seasoned campaigners like Delk. That rat made it happen. She caused the very ground to rise up against us, made the rockface break loose to smash us down, enchanted Delk to act foolishly and pay with his life. She tried to kill us all ... and she very nearly succeeded."

Urthblood regarded Matowick with a level gaze, even as some of the creatures around them murmured in startled alarm, for as the Gawtrybe captain related his tale, his voice had risen in both volume and agitation, reaching many ears.

"I'm sure you are mistaken, Captain. These must have been coincidences, perhaps amplified to you as something more after all you'd been through."

"With all due respect, Lord," Matowick bit off, "you weren't there. You didn't feel ... the world _twisting_. Bending, changing around us. If we bring her in here, she'll bring the entire mountain down on our heads. It's a miracle I made it back her with her alive."

"No, Captain, it is no miracle. She is here because it was my will that she be brought here, and you acted as an extension of my will. She may have resisted, she may have fought in ways you were not fully prepared for, and she may have nearly persevered - but in the end my will was stronger than hers, my power greater. In hindsight, you could not have failed. All has happened as it was meant to."

"And yet five of my best squirrels are dead now ... "

"They died heroes, fulfilling their role in helping to remove from Mossflower a threat to all the lands. They will be duly honored and remembered for their service. In fact, we will hold a ceremony in their memory, perhaps tomorrow, committing their names to the rolls of those who have performed the greatest service to our cause. It is only fitting, after all. Although, I did warn you that you might expect resistance from unexpected directions in the course of carrying out this mission."

Matowick's tired eyes widened momentarily, then drooped again. "I ... we never expected anything like _that_, Lord. How were we supposed to meet such a threat? How was any mortal beast?"

"It is of no consequence now. You have discharged your responsibility, and your account leaves little doubt in my mind that you have delivered to me the creature I dispatched you to apprehend."

"Oh, she's the one, all right. My five dead tribesmates are testimony enough to that - as is the arrow that took Lady Mina through her side."

Urthblood showed renewed surprise at this remark. "Lady Mina? How does she fare? What happened?"

"She will recover, or at least that was the prognosis of the Abbey healers when we left. Mina tried to slay the rat you sent me to get, taking it upon herself to solve this problem of yours the Gawtrybe way. But fate broke her bow as she pulled taut the string, sending the shaft meant for her target spinning back upon her instead, piercing her abdomen. And knowing what I know now - after what I've seen - I know Latura made it happen. That rat controls fate itself."

"Not as much as I do. Latura - is that this rat's name?"

"Aye." Matowick paused. "Lord, I'm not sure she can be killed, if that be your intent. I might have tried it myself, but I'm certain I would have been frustrated in my attempts, just as Lady Mina was. I'm not certain anybeast can slay her."

"Then the moment has come to test this theory - and I will be the one to test it. And since you are reluctant to usher her into the mountain, we will do this outside. Come, and let us put an end to this once and for all - one way or the other."

00000000000

"Look at this creature, Captain, and tell me what you see."

Urthblood and Latura stood regarding each other under the open seaside sky, only a pace or two separating them across the sands. Matowick held his place near his master's side, while farther back encircling the scene lingered Abellon, Tillamook, Mattoon and any number of the mountain's defenders who'd followed their Lord and captains out onto the shore to have a look at this suddenly-legendary rat for themselves. After catching bits and snatches of what Matowick had told Urthblood inside, all were most curious to see what this turn of events portended, and how this confrontation between powerfully prophetic beasts would play out.

Matowick looked to Urthblood in puzzlement. "Why do you ask this, Lord? She stands right before you. You can see her quite plainly for yourself."

"I want to hear an assessment of how she appears to others. Describe her please, as she strikes your eyes, and leave out no detail."

"Very well." Matowick turned his assessing gaze fully on Latura. "Not much to be said for this one, at least not on the outside. Short and slight, more gangly than anything, with tawny fur not quite lustrous enough to bear a healthy sheen, and a tendency to lie up and stick out in a most unkempt fashion. Eyes too small and beady to come across as fully intelligent, front teeth too large for the mouth, ears slightly mismatched, although I couldn't exactly say how, tail scraggly even by rat standards, and overlarge footpaws that are constantly trying to trip over each other. She's wearing the male-style tunic of her companion, from when we made them switch garments to try to throw off the Redwallers pursuing us. Her whiskers seem too thin and tenuous to be much good for anything, and her posture is as perpetually slumped as any shambling vermin's could be. All in all, a sorry physical specimen, for any species."

"Hey, I'm standin' right here!" Latura protested, then returned her fascinated gaze to Urthblood.

The badger winced at the keening, sucking sound that whined inside his ears when Latura spoke. "Thank you, Captain."

Everybeast stood at the ready, waiting for what would come next. Even Whiskersalt and Wakenfern and Ramjohn and Chobor had made their way down from the dining hall upon word of this event, looking on from the shelter of the main entryway above. The collective nervous anticipation grew as the moments stretched out, with the two prophetic antagonists simply standing and staring at each other in silence.

Urthblood saw nothing of what Matowick had described. His gaze bore into his prey with all the otherworldly insight he could summon, and yet he saw no more now that he'd ever been able to see in all those seasons of questing after the Point. The dark and mysterious shadow haunting his spectral vision for so long had at last been brought before him, yet it stubbornly, impossibly remained just that - a shadow, featureless and blank. No eyes, no mouth, no fur, no face - just a void in the space of the world, an impenetrable and unrevealing silhouette in the shape of a rat, but not a real creature. The latent power within this beast utterly veiled her from his sight, hiding her from his perceptions even though she stood directly before him. The phantom threat from his prescient dreams persisted as a phantom, black and unyielding.

The long glass had not been malfunctioning up on the mountainside terrace. He could not see her because she would not let herself be seen.

He dreaded to reach out to try to touch her, to make her presence reality through tactile means as visual means could not. The sight of her now - or rather the lack thereof - unnerved Urthblood more than he was prepared to admit. In all his worldly wanderings and experiences, and in all his probings into the realms beyond the physical, he'd never encountered anything to suggest that such a phenomenon might exist. And, as he stood there feeling his adversary dissecting him with a gaze he could not see, for the first time in many seasons a tiny gnawing pang of fear asserted itself inside him - and he knew that when he finally did make contact with his long-sought prize, it would not be with his paw, but with his steel.

From where Latura stood, staring at Urthblood with a rapt fascination he could sense but not see, she beheld nothing else but what lay inside him. All traces of the red from her dire, repeated warnings were vanished now; she saw naught of the burnished crimson armor, nor of the stripe-furred creature encased within. Her vision revealed to her only white - multifaceted, translucent white. Once, at the Abbey, she'd seen an old crystal serving bowl, fancier than any such vessel in her old village, its surface corrugated with diamond ridges and coruscated patterns, and now, trapped in this moment, she could think of Urthblood as nothing more than a massive, badger-shaped crystal artifact, lacking any solid surface which might conceal its interior, consisting entirely of myriad canted prism windows opening onto what lay at the crux of this construct.

And at the center of that indefinite figure raged the vortex, sucking in currents of fate and chance and possibility, visible to her as rushing white streams whipping all about them. Some were incoming, drawn into the depths of the badgervoid by the irresistible pull of the vacuum centered there, while others spewed out into the world again with frightful force. But those coming out were not the same as when they went in; somehow they'd been changed, altered, perverted by their passage through this dynamo of destiny. These streams of happenstance, these currents of what was meant to be, emerged bent to the will of the being who corralled them, and they would never be the same again.

Regarding this spectacle that only she could see, this storm of distorted cause and effect twisting and writhing and soundlessly thundering around them, she saw that the only reason any of this could be was because there was nothing there. Deep down, at the very heart, lay only an appalling nothingness, which drew history into its folds like a magnet, subverting and distorting it to its will. Of that there was plenty - willpower, intent, dark design - but aside from that, where should have dwelt the essence that made a beast a beast, of that there was no trace.

Pondering this discovery in her own feeble way, faced with this revelation, Latura absently muttered the only word she could think of to voice what she beheld.

"Empty ... "

Except that this time, she meant it in a far more literal sense than when she'd ever referred to Mathurin and Turma by that name.

Urthblood heard not this lowly-uttered word of hers, no more than he heard anything she said - just more of the keening knife edge across his awareness that made him flinch and bristle his fur like claws against slate. Deciding to head this off - in the most literal manner possible - before this taunting phantasm could discomfit him further, his paw went to his sword hilt. "It is time to end this."

And then something happened that nobeast looking on would be able to account for, either then or in seasons to come. As Urthblood's blade left its scabbard, its tip caught against the lip of the sheath and rendered his brandishing of the weapon uncharacteristically awkward. Perhaps it was rustiness, from not having drawn his sword in battle since facing his brother, and maybe it was lack of practice using his left paw for such a maneuver; maybe it was the faceless, dimensionless facade of the not-quite-creature before him that caused him to misjudge distances, or perhaps that same featureless visage had so unnerved him that he grew clumsy. Whatever the reasons, when he drew his blade and held it up before him, the haphazard arc of its swing brought its razor-keen tip into glancing contact with Latura's nose, tracing the faintest hairline of blood there as it just barely broke the tender skin.

Latura stepped back, clutching her snout. "Ooo! 'ee sliced me!"

This time, Urthblood paid no heed to the cringe-inducing noise of her speech, for as the first vestige of Latura's blood tainted the deadly steel, a lightning bolt of warning energy seemed to flash up the blade, through the hilt and into his paw, shocking and numbing him, blasting through his every nerve until he felt everybeast around him must surely see the destructive power pouring forth from him.

Staggering backward, he released his grip on the sword, which thudded into the sand with a muted thump.

"My Lord!" Matowick cried out in alarm. "What is it? Has she hurt you?"

Urthblood stood stunned, shaking his head sideways to try to rid it of the lingering cascade of caution that had threatened to momentarily rob him of his senses. He shuddered, then realized the shudder did not cease at a single chilled convulsion. He was shaking; he was shaken.

Pointing his paw at the black rat shape, he roared, "Bind that abomination! Guard her, watch her, hold her fast! Make sure she goes nowhere, and that nobeast approaches her once restrained!"

His thoughts in disarray, he spun and stormed back up into the mountain, his sword still lying in the sand behind him, forgotten.

00000000000

Matowick found Urthblood up in the forge room, alone - and if the badger wasn't fuming, it was as close to it as the Gawtrybe captain could ever recall seeing.

The utilitarian chamber itself lay dark and silent, as it did so often these days; with only one paw, even a master of the craft such as Urthblood found working and shaping hot steel a formidable challenge, and with his army already outfitted with all the weaponry they'd likely need for their next several campaigns, the furnaces here mostly sat cold and unstoked in recent seasons.

Now Urthblood paced up and down between oven and anvil and betwixt baskets and bundles of finished but undistributed armaments, his manner clearly betraying his inner turmoil. Matowick, as the first and so far only officer to successfully seek out his badger master - and as the one who'd delivered to Salamandastron the creature responsible for causing the Lord of the Mountain such consternation - felt compelled to inquire as to what was going on.

"My Lord, what happened out there? Are you all right?"

"A trap," the badger barked, his tone a far cry from its usual smooth rumble. "It was all a trap. All these seasons ... "

"A trap? Set by who?"

"By fate, Captain. No mortal beast or cabal could have designed such a trial for me. The power contained within that rat ... never would I have believed such a thing possible. I owe you an apology; I see now that she is indeed capable of all you have attributed to her, and more. You were right that she is to blame for all the calamities which befell your expedition, because fate was behind her. And yet ... such power ... "

Matowick swallowed, uncertain of the prudence of voicing his next thought. "More powerful than ... you, Lord?"

Urthblood ceased his distracted pacing and looked to Matowick, and if anything, this line of inquiry actually seemed to calm him. "No. Not MORE powerful. A different kind of power, to be sure, perhaps equal to mine in its own way, but directed to other aims and purposes. More latent and less controlled than mine, as by its very nature it must be. I always foresaw that this creature held within it the potential to deliver my downfall and doom, but never did I imagine it would be in such a literal sense. If destiny herself can be culpable of treachery, then that rat outside represents a level of treachery not even Tratton himself could match."

"I ... don't understand, Lord. Do we now have her at our mercy, or does she have us at hers? Is she still a threat, or no?"

Urthblood slowly shook his head, his usual composed confidence returning to him more with each passing moment. "No. This danger is past."

"Then she can be slain now, and put to rest once and for all?"

"No, Captain. That is the very trap which nearly ensnared me. She cannot be slain. And she must not be slain."

Matowick's confusion only deepened. "Then ... what ... I don't ... "

"When the tip of my sword drew her blood just now, even though only the most miniscule trace of her inner power tainted my steel, I was warned too fully and too well of what would happen were I to carry on as I'd intended. Even as fate laid this trap for me, it also favored me with a glimpse of how that trap must spring, for me to heed or ignore at my peril. As it was, circumstances left me no way to ignore it. The power inside her, Captain ... even the tiniest taste of that power was enough to nearly knock me off my footpaws, and make me feel as if my mortal shell was bursting. Had I plunged my blade deep into her in a blind attempt to rid the lands of her, ignorant and unsuspecting of the forces such an act would unleash, it would have destroyed me, utterly and totally."

Matowick stood spellbound by this revelation, slack-jawed and incapable of speech.

"This was the danger she posed to me ... and I now believe the only danger. The trap was a crafty one, the test fiendishly ingenious. For seasons I was shown that a rat could undo all my works, but never did my far and future sight reveal or even hint that attempting to destroy that threat would be the very thing that could unleash my own destruction. How was I to know? How could I have? Never did I suspect destiny herself might scheme and plot against me so. It was a near thing, Captain - a very near thing indeed. Were it not for an accident of my wrist, we might all stand upon the shores of utter ruin right now."

Urthblood's gaze upon the squirrel grew more intense. "All of which leaves us with one very salient question: If the entire purpose of her existence was to bring her to this moment and to this test, why then did fate so imbue in her such astounding power to resist my will? The power to deliver so many of her fellow rats into an inviolate sanctuary in opposition to my greater aims ... the power to call down boulders from the mountain face and shatter the rock underpaw to annihilate nearly your entire expedition ... the power to hide herself from me during seasons of search, and remain hidden from my sight even when ... " Here Urthblood paused, as if reluctant to share what he was about to say, even to one of his most trusted confidants. Instead, he took one deliberate step toward Matowick. "Tell me again, just how did you manage to extract her from Redwall so easily? I've yet to hear the full details of that operation."

"E-easy?!" Matowick sputtered. "There was nothing easy about it, Lord! It nearly killed us all, and cost you many of your gulls too - including Captain Scarbatta."

"Yes, getting her here was costly indeed, I concede. But I am not talking about that now. I speak of the actual extraction - getting her out of the Abbey itself. You were well clear before anybeast gave chase; this I know from my aerial scouts. How did you get her outside the walls and into the Plains?"

Matowick screwed up his features, as if trying to dredge up some dim and far-distant memory. "There was a distraction we took advantage of. Some of the Abbey youngsters were misbehaving, occupying the attention of all the adult beasts. That cleared the way for us to snatch our target."

"Well, that was certainly convenient. One might almost say lucky. There is just one problem with that. Think of that rat standing outside on the shore right now. Think of all she has done, all she has caused ... and then tell me you believe luck had any part at all in these events."

Matowick worked his jaw silently for several moments. "I ... I'm not sure how you want me to respond to that, Lord. But, you've just finished telling me she was a trap designed by fate to ensnare you. If so, then how could she have fulfilled that destiny unless she was brought before you? Perhaps fate determined she was to come with us ... just as you say you saw my squad as the ones to do this ... "

"And yet, she fought me so. Could anybeast at Redwall have assisted you with your escape? Lady Mina, perhaps?"

The squirrel shook his head. "No, I don't see how. She was up in the Infirmary recovering from the wound to her side, and no Abbeybeast would have lifted a paw to aid us. We Gawtrybe were practically viewed as the enemy there, even before we made off with Latura and her fellow villager."

"Ah yes. About that. Who exactly is this second rat you captured? Why did you see fit to bring him along as well? What is his significance?"

"None, Lord. He's a nothing, a nobeast. He proved some minor worth at misleading our pursuers, if only for a little while, but other than that ... He wasn't even supposed to be there ... except that he was. He's gotta go to sea."

"Go to sea? What does that mean?"

"Nothing. It's just what Latura kept saying - that he had to go to sea. He saw her go outside the Abbey walls in all the confusion, and followed after her, no doubt to try and get her to go back inside."

"She went outside? On her own? You did not force her out under custody? What made her do such a thing?"

"I ... don't know."

"You never thought to ask her?"

"She's ... not the most coherent of beasts, Lord. Lady Mina at first refused to believe she could be the rat we sought at all. She displays the intellect and temperament of a youngbeast - and not a very swift one at that."

"You think this misbehavior you spoke of by the Abbey youngsters might have forced her outside for some reason?"

"It's ... possible. There was so much going on, all over and all at once, I really could not say for certain. But when I saw the two of them leave the Abbey, I alerted my team and we went out after them. Followed them into the woods, found they'd already been stopped by some of Captain Custis's squirrels, and that's where we took them into our custody."

"That still doesn't explain why you brought the male along with you."

"We had to bring him along to keep him from raising the alarm. We really had no choice."

"You could have just slain him."

"No, Lord. He had to go to sea."

Something about Matowick's automatic, mantra-like tone struck the badger. "Captain, is there something you're not telling me?"

"I can't imagine what it would be. Everything happened just as I have reported. If the rest of my squad were here, they would tell you the same."

"But they aren't, are they? Another convenience, if something is meant to remain hidden from me." Urthblood stalked right up to Matowick and, to the squirrel's startlement, took the Gawtrybe's chin in his massive left paw and tilted it up so that the two of them locked gazes. Matowick had seen his master perform this ritual many times before - but only with beasts of a more verminous and questionable nature, to divine whether they were worthy of trust, or to be condemned to the blade as hopelessly irredeemable. Never did Matowick imagine he might find himself subjected to one of these scrutinizing, soul-plumbing examinations.

Urthblood's gaze gave away little, and his voice remained clinically impassive. "Something has been ... you have been altered, Captain."

"Al-altered?" Matowick stammered as Urthblood released him.

"Your memory. All is not as it should be. Something ... veiled ... misdirected ... "

"Who could have done such a thing?!"

"It was not my work. And I can think of only one other who might be capable of such a feat. Perhaps it is hardly surprising, considering how much time you spent in her company. It could be purely an unintended proximity effect, with no purpose behind it. Still, it is curious that you should arrive in this state, with so many gaps and peculiarities in your account of events. It almost seems too coincidental to credit."

Matowick found himself shaking, just as Urthblood had shaken down on the shore after uncovering Latura's true nature and purpose. His memory, gone? Or, more to the point, selectively edited, to hide who-knew-what from both himself and his Lord? He felt more deeply violated than if he'd been physically assaulted; if he could not trust his own recollections - if he could not be sure he knew what he thought he knew - it was like having the rug of his whole life pulled out from under him.

"I do not think you have been turned against me, on some secret, subliminal level," Urthblood rumbled on in his coldly analytical tone. "I would surely sense anything that profound. No, this is more subtle - a veiled fact, a tweak of a specific memory. I cannot glimpse or surmise what that memory may have been, but if it has not subverted you, and it has not prevented you from fulfilling your mission to bring my enemy to me, then perhaps it is not worthy of undue concern after all. Still, it will warrant further pondering, and consideration."

Matowick felt a new anger toward Latura surging up inside him. It was bad enough that she'd dared to pose a challenge to Lord Urthblood, and even worse that her willful wild talents had cost the lives of his cherished comrades. But now, to hear that she might have reached into his very mind and hidden some small part of his life from him - that was beyond the pale. Even fated, prophetic beasts did not do that to their fellow creatures ... unless they were purely, unmitigatedly evil.

"So, what are we to do now, Lord? I mean, if you had me bring her here to be slain, and now you dare not slay her ... "

"Yes, it does pose a rather confounding paradox, does it not? A beast who perhaps cannot be slain by any ordinary soul, but who holds disaster for the one creature who can. A uniquely effective survival mechanism fate has bestowed upon her - now that we know to abide by it."

"Yes, but, what do we _do_ with her? She can't stay here - there's too much trouble she could cause us, too many things that could go wrong. Do we send her back to Redwall?"

"To Redwall? Why would you suggest such a thing, Captain?"

"It's where she came from, and she seemed happy there. Maybe if she's happy, she won't cause anybeast any more trouble. And if she does, let the Redwallers deal with it, not us."

"She did not come from Redwall, but from someplace much, much farther away than that."

"Fine. Let's send her there then. As long as it's not here, at Salamandastron."

"But that would violate the Accord, Captain."

Matowick stared long and hard at Urthblood, the badger's words slowly registering. "Lord ... you can't mean ... "

"The provisions of the peace treaty with Terramort - provisions included in the agreement at my own insistence - specifically promise Tratton all the rats of the lands in exchange for releasing his woodlander slaves. She is a rat. She is of the lands, or at least the physical part of her is. Our course could not be clearer. If she is not to die here, then my paw is tied. She must be given over to the custody of the searats, in accordance with the very law I helped write. Ideally, to those searats tied up at our pier outside at this very moment."

"But ... we can't give her to Tratton!"

"The Accord is the Accord."

"But ... a creature who can't be killed ... who can do the things she can ... who holds such power ... and to let Tratton have that kind of weapon ... "

"Not a weapon," Urthblood corrected, sounding certain of himself beyond argument. "Her powers are solely her own, not to be marshalled, controlled or exploited by anybeast outside her. We are merely keeping up our end of the agreement between us and Tratton. He will have no better idea what to do with her than I do ... and no better luck using her for his own ends than I would."


	24. Chapter 96

**CHAPTER NINETY-SIX**

Two days after laying Fawkwell and Sergeant Peppertail to their final rest on the Abbey grounds, the Long Patrol assembled by their graves for a second time, for a far less somber and solemn purpose than before. Only Pumphrey, the most grievously wounded of all the surviving hares, was absent, confined to his Infirmary bed on order of the Abbess while he convalesced from the punishments inflicted on him by Urthblood's battle gulls.

Colonel Clewiston took up his position of command at the front of the orderly ranks, his truncated ears still bandaged to protect Vanessa's stitchwork. To his right stood Field Marshal Traveller at ramrod attention, while on his left stood Sodexo, invited to partake in this ceremony as honorary stand-in for the Badger Lord they no longer had, but hoped to have again someday. The Abbey's more permanent badger resident, Mother Maura, had volunteered her services most gladly to mind the leverets and harebabes for this occasion, so that Chevelle and Faylona and the rest wouldn't disrupt these proceedings.

"Well, if there was ever a sorrier-looking muster of the Patrols, I haven't been on paw to review it," Clewiston began with tongue in cheek as he surveyed the array of slings, casts and bandages sported by Leftwick, Pledger and Buckalew. "And yes, I do count myself as part of that, with these ear decorations an' body patches of my own. But decorations're wot they jolly well are - badges of courage and valor bespeaking the sacrifices made in service to this Abbey and the cause of justice. An' after these dressin's an' casts come off and we're left with just our scars, we can keep on wearin' them proudly, as tribute an' reminders of how the Long Patrols always seek to do the right thing, no matter wot it might cost us."

His wistful gaze went to the two fresh graves, which had been dug next to the now-grassy burial mound of old Broyall, the first hare to pass away at Redwall several seasons earlier. "An' in this instance, it cost us a bloody lot. We took care of the eulogies an' memorials an' weepy stuff two days ago, but the loss of Fawks and the Sergeant has left a hole in our ranks, one it's time to address now. Fact is, even before this whole bruhaha out on the Plains, a little much-needed reorganization's been long overdue. Might as well get to it now. No time like th' present, wot? Lieutenant Gallatin, front an' center, if you please!"

Somewhat surprised at hearing his name called - for he'd played no direct role in the fighting to try to recover Latura - Gallatin stepped forward from his spot in the front line to stand directly before his commander. Clewiston gave a slight nod Sodexo's way, and the badger offered to Gallatin a dress tunic, one of several draped over his large arm. The junior officer took it uncertainly, fairly certain he recognized the garment as one of his own and mystified as to why Clewiston would be presenting it to him in so ceremonial a manner. "Um, my own jacket, sah? Uh ... thanks?"

"Your jacket, Galls - but we had Sister Orellana make a slight alteration ... as you'll see for your jolly self if you study the shoulders."

Gallatin did as bidden, then performed a wide-eyed double-take as he fully noticed the different insignia newly-sewn there. "Wha - you don't ... d'you mean t' say ... "

"That's right," Clewiston affirmed with a nod, "you are hereby promoted to the rank of captain, effective immediately. Should anything happen to me or the Field Marshal, you will automatically bump up to major. An' if something happens to _both_ of us, you'll rise to colonel, an' take command of the Patrols. Vital that we have a clear-cut chain of succession, don'tcha know. 'Specially in times like these."

"Why, thank you, sah!" Galllatin overcame his flustered abashedness to snap off a grateful salute to the Colonel; it wasn't the smartest of gestures, but nobeast was about to call him on it under these circumstances.

"Way to go, Gally!" Florissant shouted out heartily from her place in the ranks. "Knew you had it in you! Three cheers for our spankin' new, freshly-minted Captain! Hip hip hooray!"

All the hares joined in lustily, for no member of the Patrols among them deserved such a fine advancement of his fortunes as much as the beloved and respected Gallatin.

"Right, right, pipe down, pipe down! Let's show a little proper regimental decorum, wot?" Clewiston's theatrical tone and ghost of a suppressed smile undercut his bombastic enjoinder for order, and he clearly didn't care who saw it. "We still have a few more promotions to get to. Sergeant Traughber, step forward please."

The sergeant showed just as much surprise at being singled out as Gallatin had, and quickly found out he was to be a sergeant no more as Sodexo presented him with a modified dress tunic of his own, also with new epaulets. "If Gallatin's been boosted to captain, only makes sense we'll need a new lieutenant to take his place, won't we? That logically falls to you, Traubs, as our one remainin' sergeant. Congratulations, an' wear the uniform well."

"I will, sir! Thank you, sir!" Traughber saluted, took the new officer's tunic from the badger, and returned to his place in formation to another round of ebullient cheers and encouraging shouts.

"And now it seems we're plum outta sergeants, wouldn'tcha know?" Clewiston went on with the hint of a wink. "Better rectify that at once, hadn't we? Corporal Twisher, to the front please!"

The scene repeated three more times, with Twisher elevated to sergeant to take Traughber's place, and then Baxley joining the still-bandaged Pledger for promotion to corporals to doubly fill Twisher's vacated spot in the ranks. If anything, the loudly-voiced accolades and encouragements and congratulations from the main body of hares rose in volume and enthusiasm as the ceremony went on, attracting the attention of other Abbey residents, and soon a fairly large circle of curious spectators had formed around the assembled Long Patrols. Even the rats in their encampment were intrigued by this rowdy yet regimented event, and at one point Harth himself sauntered over for a closer look and listen, although he took care not to approach too closely and risk appearing an intruder where he would not be welcome.

Sodexo was down to just a single tunic left draped over his arm, with Gallatin, Traughber, Twisher, Pledger and Baxley all having received theirs along with their promotions. "And last but not least," Clewiston announced, "a special citation for a special hare, one who made it through the battle at Salamandastron with life and limb, although he left another vital part of 'imself behind on that mountainside. He's not allowed his handicap to hinder him in his duties in any way; on the contrary, he's even grown in th' role of a seasoned Patroller, an' shown th' rest of us along the way a thing or two about grit an' gumption. An' the system we worked out largely for his benefit has become a valuable tool for us all, an' we'd not have it if not for him. Gives me th' greatest bloomin' pleasure of all to award a special promotion to a new Long Patrol designation: Silent Scout! Runner Saticoy, present yourself please!"

Saticoy, standing down at the end of the front row, showed the most surprise of all at hearing his name called during these proceedings, even if his Colonel's elaborate introduction had tipped everybeast off as to the identity of the day's final surprise honoree. Coming forward to accept his recognition with stuttering steps so unlike his usual smooth and confident gait, the mute hare who'd whistled and clapped for his comrades fit to qualify himself as a one-beast cheering section was now struck as silent in exuberance as he was in voice. He stopped before Clewiston with wide eyes and thorough surprise in his manner, holding himself at nervous attention as the last of the dress tunics draped over Sodexo's arm was presented to him; this one bore shoulder patches featuring the dark silhouette of a hare in profile, paw raised secretively to its lips, along with the letters "SHHHH" stitched below the image. Lower lip quivering, Saticoy accepted the jacket and nodded his wordless appreciation to Clewiston and Traveller before hastily withdrawing to resume his place in line, accompanied by the most supportive hoots and yells heard on the lawns so far that day.

"An' there we have it," the Colonel concluded. "I trust these new arrangements will hold us for another few seasons, unless further field action demands more adjustments. Profusest thanks to Lord Sodexo for consentin' to stand up for this, an' lending the right badgery air to this little ceremony here."

"It was only my pleasure to do so, and my honor to be asked," the Badger Lord responded. "We stood together out in the Plains against aggressors toward Redwall, so it is only proper we stand together here as well. Thank you for inviting me to participate, Colonel Clewiston ... Field Marshal Traveller."

The squeak of trolley wheels behind them made many of the hares turn to see Friar Hugh's kitchen staff wheeling a trio of heavily-laden dessert carts across the lawns toward them. The crowd of onlookers parted to let the culinary caravan through, and the procession pushed their carts right up to the Long Patrol assemblage, who regarded this latest surprise with eager eyes and watering mouths.

"Fresh-baked sweet carrot tarts for one an' all, made to order!" Sister Apricot heralded. "No greedy scoffing now, or there'll not be enough to go around!"

At a word and a nod from their Colonel, the Long Patrol broke ranks and descended upon the trolleys, each helping themselves to one (or, in some cases, two) of the warm, savory delicacies. But, in a rare departure for them, the hares concerned themselves less with their food and more with each other during these particular festivities, breaking into smaller groups around the respective honorees for small talk and additional personal congratulations and back-slapping. Even some of the spectators joined in, offering their own encouragements and sneaking the occasional tart for themselves when they could get away with it.

Vanessa and Winokur, drawn out to the ceremony halfway through it, stood regarding the happy aftermath. "Would've been nice for them to have informed you of this ahead of time," the otter Recorder remarked. "They clearly got Friar Hugh and our seamstresses in on this to help with the preparations."

"What makes you think I didn't know about this ahead of time?"

"Um ... er ... "

"Anyway, I don't mind that they didn't see fit to inform me. I've had quite enough else to occupy my attention lately, you know. And by saddling Maura with the leverets, the Colonel actually did me a favor, if unwittingly. It will be nice to have a bit of a breather from her overbearing presence. She's hardly making things less conspicuous for me, hovering over me all the time like a personal, self-appointed bodyguard. That as much as anything has tipped off Geoff and the others that something's going on. And speaking just for myself, I'll relish this break from her constantly looking over my shoulder."

Lowering his voice and glancing about as inconspicuously as he could to make sure nobeast else was listening in, Winokur asked, "Have you ... _seen_ anything further of Lattie? Or felt, or sensed, or whatever it is you do? It's been days ... she must be nearly to Salamandastron, or even there already."

"She and Urthblood are close to each other, very close ... but in such proximity, their own powers crash together in confusion, clouding mine. I cannot see what is happening out there now, and I may not until ... well, until it is over."

Wink nodded, knowing not to pursue the subject further - at least not out here on the lawns, with so many others around who might overhear.

"Now then, let's see what kind of job our good Friar did on these snacks, before they're all gone!"

Stepping forward, they found Tibball and Browder volunteering their services to help distribute the tarts from the trolleys.

"Fine rankfest, wasn't it?" the thespian hare remarked to everybeast and nobeast as he doled out the treats to any and all takers. "Not Long Patrol m'self, you know, but married inta them, so it's a proud moment even for a regimental spouse relegated to the spectatorly sidelines like me! Tho' pers'nally, I'd've given m' dear Mizzy a bump or two in rank if t'were up to me, she's top hole Long Patrol material don'tcha know, but I didn't get a bally vote, so ah well. At least her sister's hubby got a boost up to corporal, so not a total familial loss. Then again, bein' th' Colonel's stepson-in-law, I've no call t' criticize any part o' these proceedings, wot?"

"I'm proud enough just to be involved as a witness," said Tibball. "After everything they went through out on the Plains, I worried we'd not be seeing these gallant hares smiling, laughing or cheering again anytime this season. This ceremony was just what they needed to bring themselves back to themselves. There's still work to be done in defending this Abbey, and we need the Long Patrol in top form to meet those challenges!"

Vanessa accepted her tart from the rabbit. "'We,' Tibball? Are you planning on becoming a permanent Redwaller yourself, then?"

"Well, Abbess ... I haven't actually decided ... but I am having such a fine time here, ma'am ... in spite of all the strife and tragedies, I mean ... and, well, the possibility has certainly occurred to me, and why wouldn't it have? A bachelor rabbit of no certain age and no certain means - not to mention no certain family - could do far worse than settling here and making Redwall his home, couldn't he?"

A short way across the lawn, Clewiston found himself veritably besieged by fellow hares commending him on his conduct of the ceremony and his choices for promotion. Corporal Twisher - now Sergeant Twisher - after thanking the Colonel yet again for this day's honor, ventured, "But doesn't this leave us short a sergeant, sir? Before we had Pepper an' Trobbs both, but now it's just - well, me. I might've expected somehare else to be brought up along with me, to keep th' blinkin' balance."

"Only reason we had two sergeants all that time," Clewiston explained airily, "is th' same bally reason we went so long without a captain or major - namely, we stuck with whoever survived Salamandastron, an held them at their prior ranks, p'raps through some sense o' sentimentality more than anything. But time goes on, things change ... an' this sorry episode out on th' Plains made me realize Traveller an' I won't be around forever. If battle doesn't claim us, seasons will, eventually, an' I decided I needed to formalize the chain of command in case this impasse with Urthblood an' these rats blows up inta somethin' far worse than it already has. We got along fine for seven seasons with no senior officers 'tween Gallatin an' me, so I think we'll manage with just one sergeant, wot?"

"If you ask me, sir," offered newly-minted Lieutenant Traughber, looking to the Colonel's wife standing faithfully at Clewiston's side, "I think your own Mel would've been well deserving of a kick up to at least corporal herself, an' maybe even sergeant along with Twish here. No more seasoned or respected a Patrol Group Leader in all the force, and she gave us two good 'uns in Mizzy an' Givvy. I'd venture all the chaps 'n' gels would've gone along with that just fine."

"'preciate the vote of confidence in Mel, Traubs, an' I agree wholeheartedly with your assessment of her ability an' experience. But when you're head honcho of th' Patrols, gotta be mindful of appearances. How'd it look if I went promoting my own wife up a grade or two? Took enough of a chance just uppin' my stepson-in-law Baxley to corporal. Can't have aspersions of favoritism cloudin' this joyful day, can we?"

"And besides," Melanie added, "I'm perfectly happy with my role of both mum and grandmum, plus bein' Clewy's better half, plus holding my own longtime Patrol Leader's rank on top of it all. Let others enjoy their promotions, 'cos they can have 'em!"

"I'm still impressed that you were able to pull this whole thing off in secret, without any of us catchin' on," said Twisher. "None of us were expectin' anything like this when you called this muster."

"Not as hard as all that, if you think about it, Corp- er, Sergeant. We Long Patrols do tend to keep to ourselves more or less, so gettin' our cooks and seamstresses an' Lord Sodexo in on this without most of you lot bein' any the wiser wasn't a challenge. I had Grace 'n' Orellana workin' their paws to th' bally bone these past two days on Satty's insignia, which hadta be designed from scratch."

"Well, that part was def'nitely worth it," Traughber said, glancing over to where Saticoy stood accepting praise from a knot of his fellow Patrollers. "I'd say he's at a bloomin' loss for words, if that weren't in such blinkin' bad taste, wot?"

"Righto - ol' Satty's positively beamin', which is always good t' see. An' as for keepin' it all a secret, I'd say even our all-seein' Abbess herself was taken by surprise over this." Twisher gazed across to Vanessa, who still stood with Winokur near the dessert carts. "Is it really true she knew the exact moment Pepper fell? That's th' word that's goin' 'round ... "

"She did, 'cordin' to Geoff, an' he was right there t' hear it, unlike any of us," Clewiston replied. "Maura was there too, but she's not sayin' much these days when it comes to our returned Abbess, is she?"

"Not her nor Wink either," said Traughber. "Ever since that meeting 'tween the three of 'em up in her study, evening after Lattie was snatched. There's somethin' afoot with the three of 'em they're not lettin' anybeast else in on, an' I daresay it's not about bakin' scones or the decorations for our next feast. Thought maybe they'd take you into their confidence too once you got back, sah, but I guess they haven't ... "

"No, they haven't," Clewiston affirmed sourly. "An' I've still not heard any bally explanation for her refusal to sanction a rescue party that doesn't stick in my craw ... "

"T'ain't right, keepin' you of all beasts in the dark, sah," Traughber seconded, "'specially after all we've given to this Abbey since settlin' here, an' wot you went through out in th' Plains. Hatchin' schemes an' keepin' secrets from their own defenders, bally black mark on their records if you ask me!"

"Then again," Twisher put in, "Maura 'n' Wink're about as level-headed 'n' trustworthy as any two Abbeybeasts can be, an' aspersions won't stick to them unless there's somethin' there to stick. Can't speak as to Nessa herself - she's gone from bein' one kind of head case to another, an' I can't get that mouse figgered out - but if Wink an' Maura are going along with her in whatever this is, then maybe it warrants goin' along with."

"Unless she's bewitched and bespelled 'em," Traughber countered. "You know she's able to do more'n just see what normal beasts can't - we've all witnessed it ourselves. Mesmerizin' honest creatures inta seein' things that aren't there, or not seein' things that are. Who knows how she might've enchanted Wink 'n' Maura when she had 'em up there alone with 'er?"

Clewiston nodded slowly. "Can't speak t' that, chum, but it does bear watchin', doesn't it? For now, we'll trust in our stalwart Badgermum an' dependable otter Recorder to stay true to Redwall, however they regard that to be, an' we'll keep an eye on Nessa to see where things go with her. Hardly behooves sworn defenders of this Abbey to place themselves at odds with the head mouse 'round here, but if she shows she's not fit for the post, we'll be on th' bally front lines in determinin' whether that head mouse remains Vanessa or goes back t' bein' Geoff again, whether we want to be in that position or not."

The others sombered at this; for all their quietly-voiced suspicions about Vanessa, none of them were yet ready to take those views beyond the stage of speculation amongst their fellow hares - or to seriously consider where they would stand in a contest for succession for the rule of Redwall, or what part they might be forced to play in such events.

Into that momentary lull in the conversation stepped about the last creature any of them would have expected. Harth, wending his way between hares who were only too obliging in stepping aside to let him pass, threaded his way right up to Clewiston. The Colonel regarded the rat with the first look of distaste he'd allowed to cross his face all day. "Yes, chappie, can I help you?"

"Nice liddle show y' put on here, Colonel. Reckoned I'd come over an' offer my own congratulations to all yer hares who deserve it."

"Thanks but no thanks," Traughber said before Clewiston could respond. "We'll take congrats from who we choose, an' you'd not make that list, chump." He'd almost said "chum" but added the "p" at the last moment as a kind of lingering, delayed insult.

Harth ignored the new lieutenant's bad graces. "Also occurs to me I've not had opportunity since yer return t' formally thank you fer goin' after Lattie like y' did. I know it cost you dear, an' didn't turn out how either o' us woulda liked, but the effort was appreciated - yer effort, an' the Guosim's, an' that big badger's who ain't even a Redwaller who went with you. Least you lot tried, even after the Abbess ordered ev'rybeast to sit on their paws an' just let those squirrels have Lattie. Shows me who I can count on 'round here, an' we'll not forget it. Fer what it's worth."

"If it's all th' same, we'd rather you did forget it, since we'll be tryin' our blinkin' best to do so ourselves," Traughber went on. "If we get any choice in who we're beholden to an' who's beholden to us, we'd rather it not be vermin like you, wot!"

"That's enuff, 'tenant," Clewiston said, surprising the hares around him, and then addressed Harth. "Just so you know, we went after Lattie because of Redwall, not because of you. This Abbey was violated in a host of different ways when she was taken like that, an' that needed answerin'. Wot's more, we believe Urthblood's the enemy of not only Redwall but all decent creatures, an' if Lattie was somebeast who could stand against him an' cause him trouble, she hadta be kept out of his clutches if we could at all manage it; that's why we went after her. Unfortunately, we didn't succeed, an' now we can only wait an' see wot that means for th' lands." Clewiston paused, seemingly gathering himself for some supreme effort. "That said ... you're welcome."

These two words satisfied the former general as no other gesture could have. Graciously nodding in acknowledgment of Clewiston's equanimity, Harth withdrew, laving the hares to themselves again. Traughber looked to his Colonel in disappointment. "Well, there's no call for bein' polite to their sort, sah ... "

"Beg t' differ, Traubs ol' chum. Long as this Purge business is goin' on, an' as long as our Abbots 'n' Abbess see fit not to expel 'em for violatin' any of our rules, those rats are here to stay ... which means gettin' along with 'em whether we want to or not. An' if their head rat's going to extend a civil paw of courtesy an' appreciation, behooves us not to smack it away. Don't hafta be best pals with the frighters, but if they're bound to behave themselves like decent creatures, falls on us t' be on our own best behavior too - raise th' bally bar, stand above 'n' beyond reproach, provide a shinin' example of wot bein' an Abbeybeast is all about. If they're gonna play the goodbeast game, we'll show them who the true champs of that are, won't we?"

Twisher twitched his whiskers. "Dunno, sah. You plannin' to make a general address to the entire Patrols about this? If not, I'd wager lots more of us are likely to treat 'em the way Trobbs just did than you did."

"Yah, well, maybe I'll just have to - wot's that?" Cutting himself off in mid-sentence, Clewiston turned to look up toward the east walltop, where the Abbey sentries had just sent up a shouted alarm.

"Foxes! We've got foxes approachin'!"

Now it was Clewiston's turn to wiggle his whiskers in consternation. "Be nice if those flippin' swordswingers would've given us some notice to expect 'em. Wonder wot they want now? Not like it's a feastday comin' up, or anything like that."

"Maybe it's not Urthblood's gang?" Twisher speculated. "Maybe it's those foxes from that horde where all those rats came from, out beyond the quarry. Or could it be some other band of troublemakers?"

Clewiston shot the sergeant a jaundiced glance. "With all those Gawtrybe terrors sweepin' the nearer woods on a daily basis? You think they'd let any but their own through this area?"

"Hmm. Point there, sah."

Over at the dessert trolleys, Tibball, hearing the shouts of foxes going up from the ramparts, instantly reached the same conclusion as the Long Patrol colonel, and set about glancing left and right in anxious search of an avenue of escape. "Um, foxes? Foxes, did they say? I'll, uh, just be headin' inside then ... "

"No need for boltin', little chappie," Browder reassured the rabbit. "If it's the Foxguard crowd, they're quite a decent an' well-behaved lot for their kind, an' if it's not, they're jolly well not gettin' one crooked claw inside our gates. So take a deep puff an' calm yourself, wot?"

"I've spent my time at Foxguard," Tibball reminded the player hare, "and I'd just as soon not rub shoulders with them again this season if I can help it. Say hello to them for me ... or, better yet, don't. Might be best if my name never comes up at all." And with that, Tibball scampered off toward the main Abbey, dessert carts and carrot tarts chased from his thoughts.

Harth, meanwhile, had an entirely different concern. Seeking out Vanessa, he approached her with a warrior's stern demeanor. "What's with these foxes, Abbess? Have they come t' join their Gawtrybe allies in an attack on this Abbey? Why didn't yer birds spot 'em 'fore this?"

"Our Sparra are still getting over their own trials out on the Plains. They might not have suffered any fatalities like the Guosim or the Long Patrol, but they still took some punishment from Urthblood's gulls. We've got them back flying daily status flights between here and the quarry, but they're not going out of their way to cover Foxguard; we've all had too much else on our minds, as I'm sure you can appreciate. And as for your worries, I can assure you that adding Tolar's blades to their arsenal won't benefit the Gawtrybe one whit in breaching our walls. If these foxes have not come in peace, they'll not be getting past our gates."

"You ain't seriously considering lettin' 'em inside, are you? After all that's happened?"

"I'll not bar them out of paw, not after they've visited and stayed with us in peace any number of times in recent seasons. Then again, I am not above taking some common sense precautions as well. Let us hear what brings them to us now, and then we'll decide whether they are to be admitted or not."

00000000000

The Abbey squirrels atop the battlements waved acknowledgment - if not necessarily welcome - at Tolar's procession as the Foxguarders drew up to the east gate. But the other creatures standing up alongside Elmwood's Forest Patrol on the ramparts favored the visiting vulpines with no such gesture.

Roxroy, marching at his Sword's side along with Mona, squinted up at the walltop, incredulous. "Are those ... _rats_ up there, standing watch along with the Mossflower Patrol?! I knew Winokur might take a lenient approach toward them, but could he and the other Abbey leaders really have appointed them as defenders?"

Tolar glanced aside at the junior swordfox. "While the answer to that seems self-evident, I would say that you know the mind of Brother Winokur - and, by extension, those of his fellow Abbey leaders and defenders - better than any fox of us. So, if you cannot lend any insight to this question, I daresay we'll just have to wait until we're inside and can inquire about this directly."

"_If_ we're allowed inside," Haddican muttered from over Tolar's shoulder.

Mona gazed up at the mixed rodents holding the ramparts. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Mykola was here."

"Maybe his spirit," said Tolar, "but the Gawtrybe would never have let him reach the Abbey. I suspect he turned his pawsteps in a different direction, and is far from here now, likely never to return."

"Hope he's all right," Roxroy said softly.

"We may never know. But to return to more immediate matters ... " Tolar strode forward and raised his paw to knock at the gate. The lack of any hail of greeting, or even one of reprimand or warning, stirred a disquiet within him; if the walltop guards had not called down to the inner grounds below, it might well be because they had no intention of alerting anybeast within to open the gate - which would leave Tolar's party and their considerable burdens locked out in the forest, with no choice but to turn south and make for their secondary destination, should they be rebuffed here.

Before Tolar's knuckles could land on wood, however, his sharp ears detected the scrape of the lockbolt on the other side, and the door slowly opened to reveal the last creature any fox there expected to see.

Abbess Vanessa stood at the threshold, paws serenely folded in her sleeves - a pose of steadfast authority she pulled off far more convincingly than Geoff had ever been able to manage with the same gesture - as she regarded the fox chieftain. "Hello, Sword. How may we assist you today?"

Tolar gaped, struggling to find his voice. "A-Abbess? Is it truly ... we did not expect to ... we were not informed ... but, how ... ?"

"I am returned to myself. A recent development, amongst many others, so you are to be forgiven for not being aware of this."

If Tolar and the other male foxes were flabbergasted by Vanessa's state and presence, Mona's reaction surpassed even theirs. The vixen stood wide-eyed and transfixed, as if beholding something utterly impossible. After three seasons of examinations and monitoring, three seasons with no sign or indication or promise that Vanessa would ever recover from the slingstone wound, three seasons of profound mystification over her bizarre condition and inability to offer any meaningful prognosis at all or predict which direction her health might go, here she suddenly was, without any warning or fanfare, seemingly cured of her mental malady, fully in command of herself and back in charge of Redwall as Abbess. Such a development could hardly be credited, and yet here it was standing right before Mona, evidenced by her own eyes.

"What brings you to Redwall, Sword Tolar? You did not send word for us to expect you, and if you were anticipating a feast or festival, I'm afraid we're not in a very festive mood these days."

"My apologies for our unbidden arrival, Abbess, if it inconveniences you in any way. We well appreciate that these are not normal times, and that relations between you and the Gawtrybe have been quite strained of late. But rest assured we seek no banquet or special accommodation on your part. Our visit is one of official business, and we ask only that you indulge our presence for a day or two. Then we can be on our way again, if you prefer we not tarry here longer."

"Official business, hm? The last time any of Urthblood's servants were here on 'official business,' it ended up causing us no end of trouble. Not here to snatch any more of our rat guests, are you? Because we've had our share of abductions for one season, thank you very much."

Tolar and his companions showed alarm and befuddlement over this statement. "Abductions? I know not of what you speak, Abbess. What has gone on here?"

Vanessa smirked knowingly. "Looks like Urthblood isn't sharing with all his commanders equally, is he? Don't worry, we'll fill you in on everything - and make sure you get the true version of events. Now, please do come in, and as long as you mean to cause us no trouble, you will be most welcome ... once you leave all your blades with our sentries."

"Our ... blades? Abbess, we have not had to surrender our blades for any of our visits these past three seasons."

"I have not been Abbess for the past three seasons. Things change, Sword - and, given the current state of affairs, this is a condition I would insist upon. Now, I would hate to see you have to turn around and go back after coming all this way, so ... "

Only too well aware that all his foxes looked to him to take their cue, Tolar sighed, unbuckled his scabbard and presented it to Vanessa, who relieved him of it with surprising assurance, as if handling arms was a matter of course for her. Nodding her assent, she backed through the narrow portal to make room for the vulpines to pass. "Thank you for your understanding, Sword. We'll collect the rest of your company's weapons - including those daggers I know Mona is so fond of - once you're all inside. After me, if you please."

Once the Foxguard contingent had filed through into the Abbey grounds, further surprises awaited both sides. One large and unexpected beast oversaw the Long Patrol as the hares disarmed the foxes - and the backpack-bearing weasels, whom the Redwallers had not previously noticed mingled amongst the rearguard ranks of the swordsbeasts until all were through. Tolar regarded the hulking creature looming over the scene and eyeing both foxes and weasels with suspicious scrutiny. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure, sir ... ?"

"Lord Sodexo of the Southern Glades ... and a staunch ally of Redwall's, lest you have any mischief in mind."

Vanessa flashed Tolar an almost impish grin that would have suited her former afflicted self perfectly. "We have a Badger Lord of our own now. Imagine that! Wonder how he'd fare against Lord Urthblood?"

Tolar shuddered. "Let us hope we never have occasion to find out, Abbess. I was there to see two Badger Lords clash once before, and I never care to see such a thing again in my life. And I dread to think circumstance may have deteriorated to the point where that possibility can even be contemplated, if only in jest."

"It seemed far more than mere contemplation when I was battling your master's shrews and gulls out on the Western Plains," Sodexo rumbled at Tolar. "And there was nothing jestful about that contest, as the fresh Long Patrol graves you'll find within these walls, or the Guosim ones out in the Plains, will attest."

Tolar felt a chill go through him. Of all the things he might have imagined awaited him upon his arrival here, he could not have envisioned any of this. Talk of action against Redwall by Lord Urthblood's forces ... abductions of protected beasts from within the Abbey ... warfare out on the Plains, leading to fatalities amongst the Abbey's defenders and allies ... and, worst of all, the specter of another Badger Lord being drawn into the fray, a mighty creature who could stand toe to toe with Urthblood, and didn't seem about to shy away from such a prospect. Bad memories of Salamandastron came flooding back to him, of the terrible carnage and the heavy losses suffered by both sides when two badgers fought for control of the mountain ... and for so much more. And this Sodexo, while he spoke of taking direct part in the conflict just passed, bore no signs of injury or distress from a clash which had put others in their graves, suggesting he was nobeast to be trifled with. It was no wonder Tolar and his entourage were being made to surrender their blades - and perhaps surprising they were even being admitted at all.

"Abbess, you must tell us all that has happened. From what little I have heard here so far, it sounds dire beyond all expectations."

"Did you not see any of it yourself? Much of this must have been visible from the top of Foxguard, especially through a long glass."

Tolar gave a grimacing pause, as if reluctant to reveal something. At last he replied, "The Gawtrybe have been taking all the high watches of late. At Captain Custis's insistence."

"And they told you nothing of any comings and goings out on the Plains?"

"No. They did not."

"Then I'd say you're in need of having a word or three with them when you get back to Foxguard. In the meantime, we'll be more than happy to tell you all about it - in the case of our hare and shrew friends, at greater length and in more detail, I am sure, than you might care to hear. But for now, let us finish up with the welcomes, because I see additional visitors among you in need of greeting." Vanessa turned to the marten whose presence almost went unnoticed amongst the foxes and weasels. "Good Master Trelayne, isn't it?"

"Yes ... why, yes ... you ... you remember me, Abbess?"

"Indeed, I do, although I admit I was hardly the mouse I am now when last we were acquainted. And I believe I do owe you the profusest of apologies for that most unseemly incident at your kiln. I hope you will forgive me for that - I truly wasn't myself when I smashed your marvelous figurine of Geoff." After the barest of pauses, she added, "Although you did lead us all to believe you were going to sculpt Martin instead. Hardly an excuse, I know, but still."

"Well, yes, but ... apology accepted?" The glassmaker didn't seem to know what to say. "Now that I'm here again, I had hoped to rectify that situation, and create a replacement for him. Of course, I was still expecting him to be Abbot ... "

"Yes, just what is the staus of that?" Tolar followed up, genuinely intrigued. "I mean, has Geoff been ... well, _demoted_?"

"We can hardly have both an Abbot and an Abbess occupying the chair of authority at the same time, now can we? That would lead to no end of confusion, as you can well imagine - like having two Swords at Foxguard."

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then," Tolar muttered, at nearly as much of a loss as the marten.

"And just why are our illustrious craftsbeasts here at this time?" Vanessa continued, her gaze also taking in Kyslith, whose simple woodlander tunic made him stand out from all the black-uniformed swordfoxes and marked him as a non-military creature. "I would have expected you to remain at Foxguard to keep working on your labors there. Unless they are completed already?"

Trelayne instantly brightened. "Why, yes! Yes they are! And if I may say so myself, I will hazard that this second memorial sculpture of Machus turned out even better than my first effort at Salamandastron, as fine as that was. I do so hope at least some of you can make the trip to Foxguard soon, to see it for yourselves now that it's fully installed in all its magnificence! It's every bit what Lord Urthblood's founding Sword deserves!"

"If that were the only thing bringing you here, you could just as easily have sent a single messenger fox inviting us to visit you." Vanessa ran her gaze over the assemblage. "Not Foxguard's Sword, and his healer vixen, and most of the senior members of the brigade, and even some of your weasels too, all of whom appear to bear weighty burdens on their backs. So, just what _does_ bring you to Redwall, Sword?"

"A matter of import, if not urgency, Abbess," Tolar answered. "Although, the dire hints you've dropped so far of events unbeknownst to us leads me to suspect that what you have to tell us may carry far more gravity than anything we came here to share with you."

"Your business can hardly rate as trivial, methinks, if you saw fit to momentarily abandon your fortress, leaving it, I presume, under the rule of Captain Custis."

This elicited a slight and sour frown from the fox chieftain. "I left Sappakit in charge of Foxguard during my absence, in accordance with our official chain of command. No creature other than a fox will ever 'rule' Foxguard, not even temporarily. Captain Custis is merely our guest, until Gawdrey is ready to accommodate the full force of the Gawtrybe here in Mossflower."

"Ah, yes. That. And how is Gawdrey coming along, if I may ask?"

"It proceeds apace - and other than that, I know no more on the matter than you, since its location remains an official secret, and the Captain has not deigned to extensively share details of its progress with me. I suppose a day may well come when I wake in the morning to find that all of the Gawtrybe at Foxguard have moved on, leaving my home to the sole province of its namesake swordsbeasts once more. Until then, Custis and his squirrels are temporary residents of Foxguard and allies of necessity, and we will coordinate our affairs in close cooperation, just as we have been doing."

"Hmm. For a moment there I thought you were going to use the word 'occupiers' instead of 'residents,' but it's really none of our affair, is it? So, let's see about treating you all to some refreshments in Great Hall, and then if you like we can convene a council for you to discuss your tidings with us."

"I actually don't think that will be necessary, Abbess. What I have to say can be shared informally, over food and drink, and is for the ears of everybeast who cares to listen."

"Does it by any chance concern the rats we have staying with us?"

"Actually, no. Not at all, really."

"Oh, good. Because that would have been tiresome. We've had enough of threatened sieges and false negotiations over their presence here, and now that I trust we've made it quite clear they're not going anywhere, that would be rather beating a dead badger, wouldn't it? Pardon the expression, Lord Sodexo. Come along then, and we'll get you all settled in Great Hall, and then we'll see what news we have to share with each other."

"Uh, sir," one of the weasels implored of Tolar, "can we take these packs off now? They're really straining our backs 'n' shoulders ... "

"Of course. Just pile them over there, and I'll assign a couple of my brigade to help you guard them while the rest of us are inside."

"Guard 'em?" Clewiston asked in a suspicious tone as he monitored the weasels and several of the junior swordfoxes as well, all of whom now shrugged off their cumbersome backpacks and dropped them to the ground with heavy thuds. An uncharacteristic clinking and tinkling came from within the sturdy packs upon impact, eliciting raised eyebrows and cocked ears from many of the onlookers. "We're the guards 'round here, Master Brushtail, in case you'd jolly well forgotten."

"You'll forgive me if I leave this to my own beasts, Colonel. The contents are quite valuable, representing a significant investment of time, labor and resources. And we did work quite hard to get them here."

"Some o' us harder'n others," one weasel muttered, not quite softly enough to keep Tolar from hearing it.

Clewiston continued to eye the packs. "Why? Wot's in 'em?"

Tolar flashed the hare a knowing grin as he hoisted up one of the weighty loads by its straps. "No big secret - at least not for long. In fact, keeping it a secret would totally defeat the entire purpose of our endeavors. Join us in Great Hall, and all will be revealed!"


	25. Chapter 97

**CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN**

A short time later, Tolar and most of his foxes, along with Mona, Trelayne and Kyslith, sat in Great Hall, sharing the main central table with many of the Abbey leaders. Winokur, delighted to see his old friend Roxroy again so unexpectedly, made sure to sit next to the junior swordfox while Metellus had come down from the Infirmary to see his occasional mentor Mona. At Vanessa's indulgence, Harth was granted a place at the table too, just to satisfy his reservations about having any more of Urthblood's fighting beasts in the Abbey; the Sword could insist until his nose turned dry that his presence had nothing to do with the rats, but Harth wanted to be on paw to hear what was said, regardless.

As they waited for Balla to bring out some refreshments and for Hugh to see what between-meal snacks he could throw together on such short notice, the Redwallers continued to question their latest guests.

"I still find it hard to believe you did not know anything of what went on in the Plains in recent days," Vanessa said to Tolar. "Has Custis truly taken over your lookout duties so completely?"

"It would seem so. We very often assigned our weasels to stand high watch, but Custis has dismissed even them, and I did not see fit to challenge him on the matter. Never did it occur to me he might have had ulterior motives in such a move, seeking to keep me from observing something he did not wish me to see. But we ourselves have never often looked toward Redwall without special reason to do so, taking it as a given that this Abbey is more than capable of looking after itself and managing the affairs of the woods and meadows immediately around it."

"Except that now, your bushtailed, tree-leapin' accomplices are managin' 'em for us," Clewiston interjected.

"Well, yes, but there's that too: Once it appeared that direct strife with the Gawtrybe had been avoided and Sergeant Chetwynd knew to patrol these woods without doing anything to unduly provoke Redwall, we at Foxguard simply took it for granted that the routine around here would settle into a stable, nonviolent pattern that you'd be able to work out between yourselves. Thus, my reluctance to make an issue out of Custis's insistence to take over the high watches."

"Without provoking Redwall, you say?" Vanessa asked Tolar. "Alexander found it quite provocative when the Gawtrybe, under Sergeant Chetwynd's direct command, slaughtered four rats he'd placed under his protection and was escorting back to the Abbey. You had not heard of that either?"

Tolar's lip curled downward. "No, I had not, although knowing the Gawtrybe, I am hardly surprised. It sounds a highly unfortunate affair, and I hope it has not repeated, or led to heightened animosity. I don't see Alexander here - or Lady Mina either, which surprises me. Are they out on patrol?"

"That's all part of the story, isn't it?" the Abbess practically teased. "Alex, it appears, is on his way to Salamandastron to scream and shout at Urthblood, for all the good that's likely to do, and Mina is resting upstairs in her private chambers, having only recently been discharged from the Infirmary, where she was recovering from her arrow wound."

Tolar and several of the others sat up straighter at this, showing clear alarm. "Lady Mina was shot?! Was the injury a serious one?"

"Fortunately, no. It has sidelined her for a number of days, however. I assume word of this has not reached Foxguard either?"

"No, Abbess, it has not. And I am certain Captain Custis will want to know, most urgently. Who shot her?"

"She shot herself, while attempting to murder one of the rats under our protection. Her bow broke, sending her nocked arrow right into her own abdomen."

Tolar and his companions stared long and hard at Vanessa. At last the fox commander said, "I see there is much to tell indeed. And Alexander's trip to Salamandastron - part of the same story, I presume?"

"Very much so." Vanessa turned to see Balla and Droge bearing some casks to fill the glasses and cups around the table. "Let us pause a moment until we have the means to moisten our lips and throats, and then the tale can be told in full ... "

Once all the drinks had been poured, the Abbess continued. "I suppose I must start with the arrival of Captain Matowick's squad at Redwall, since all else springs from that."

Tolar, striving to maintain politeness and let Vanessa relate her story in her own way, nevertheless could not contain his outburst at this. "Captain Matowick? Of Salamandastron? He was here, at Redwall?"

"Indeed he was - and if you'd be so kind as to refrain from further interruptions, I will explain what brought him here, the circumstances surrounding his stay and departure, and how it led to warfare out on the Western Plains."

"Yes. Yes, of course, Abbess. Do go on, and I will do my best to use both ears and not my tongue until you are finished."

"Very well. Now, I've already alluded to the miniature massacre of the four rats Alexander had under his care out in Mossflower, and while that sorry episode did take place the very same day Matowick's party arrived at Redwall, along with a great many other visitors, it is not mundane to the larger events at paw. So we'll skip that incident for now and get right to the meat of the matter, as it were ... "

As everybeast present sipped their drinks and then enjoyed some nutcrust cheese and warm oat farls, Vanessa related the entire saga of Matowick's false diplomacy and true dark motives for coming to Redwall, and Lady Mina's ill-fated attempt to assassinate Latura, and the Gawtrybes' successful abduction of the prophetic ratmaid (glossing over her own part in luring Latura outside the walls or masterminding the multiple diversions in the first place), and then the pursuit of the kidnappers by the Long Patrol, Guosim and Lord Sodexo, some of whom took over the narrative to provide their own firstpaw accounts of the battle, and Clewiston capping it off with his discovery that Urthblood had used the poison vapors to eradicate the Flitch-aye-aye, apparently exterminating that cannibal tribe down to the last weasel among them.

"Good thing none o' your weasel chappies came inside to hear this, wot?" the Colonel concluded. "With so much attention on wot His Bloodiness is doin' to rats nowadays, bet they'd be mighty disconcerted t' hear weasels might still be on th' bally hit list too."

Tolar, left ashen and shaken by all he'd heard, composed himself to respond as a professional military commander. "Entirely different cases, Colonel. The Flitch-aye-aye were a proven danger to innocent travellers, whereas Lord Urthblood's beasts are sworn to cause no unnecessary harm to woodlanders or decent folk."

Vanessa, who'd been reading the Sword's face carefully during the recitation, said, "Nevertheless, you were never informed of Urthblood's large-scale use of the poison vapor weapons a second time after the battle with Snoga, were you?"

"No. No, I was not. But even had I been, that operation took place out on the Plains, far from Foxguard. It had no direct impact on my stronghold - nor could I have exerted any influence over those events. They were what they were, with or without me."

"That's a rather ... magnanimous view to take of such a major operation so close to Mossflower being kept from you, Sword. But, as I'm sure you'll agree, that is perhaps the least part of what you have just heard. I assume you also knew nothing of Matowick's mission to snatch Latura, and the lengths to which Urthblood was willing to go to secure her, even if it meant slaying our allies and leaving relations with Redwall in tatters?"

"Of course I didn't. How could I have even shown my face here in light of these latest events? I knew of the current tensions, of course, but I arrived at your gate expecting naught worse than a bit of awkwardness, perhaps, especially since I personally never condoned any action against this Abbey, nor did I or any of my foxes play any role in such actions. I have always regarded Redwall as a stalwart friend and ally, and have repeatedly implored Custis not to do anything to imperil that relationship ... for all that he listens to me."

"It would appear Urthblood does not share your views on diplomacy. The mere fact that he promoted Custis to captain _after_ that squirrel threatened to place us under siege speaks volume - and now we have this business with Latura, which has claimed lives on both sides. Such a thing will not be easy to overlook."

"No, Abbess, I very much fear it won't. I don't mean to make light of your own losses in any way, but ... one of Lord Urthblood's captains was slain. He cannot simply disregard such a thing; I don't see how he can possibly do so. I worry he might feel some manner of retaliation or tribute is required. Such a response may be inevitable."

"We have heard much the same from Mina, but in this case I suspect both you and she may be mistaken. It was Urthblood who initiated this transgression against us, and he had to know we'd likely react as we did. I believe he factored such potential losses into his overall strategy. His primary goal was to secure Latura for himself, regardless of the cost. He has now paid that cost, as have we. If we do not push the matter further, I doubt he will either."

"And if he would take us to task over his captain's death, please remind him that it was I who slew that feathered barbarian." Sodexo held up his paws. "With these as my only weapon. If this Urthblood has an issue with my actions, I would enjoin him to come to Redwall himself to face the creatures he has wronged, and I will gladly explain matters to him - a good deal more forcefully, I suspect, than even Alexander will when he arrives at Salamandastron."

Tolar shook his head. "You do not want that badger showing up at this Abbey's gates under circumstances like that, because he would not come to talk - and he would not come alone."

"We are obviously in no position to take war to him at Salamandastron," said Vanessa, "but if he does bring war to us here, we will not shy away, and he might just find he's bitten off more than he can chew. We could win, you know ... " She narrowed her gaze at Tolar. "Depending on just how many creatures join the fight against us."

"No. No, we must not be talking of this. We must be talking of resolution and reconciliation and repaired relations between us, not of war. Neither side would win such a war; more likely you'd end up destroying each other, leaving the lands in utter ruin. This situation could very easily spiral out of control if we give into high-running emotions and provincial fervor over these tragic missteps. We must be working now to settle things down, not stir them up further."

"Oh, sure," Harth cut in, tone dripping acid, "now that he's got what he wants, let's talk peace. That'll do Lattie a whole lotta good."

"What's been done cannot be undone," Tolar lamented. "If I could, I would, but it is past now, and we must look to the future."

"But, maybe you can undo it," Winokur said, entering the conversation. "You have the signalling mirror. There's a chance Latura hasn't reached Salamandastron yet - or, if she has, that she's still alive. If you value relations with this Abbey as much as you claim, Sword, return to your fortress and send word to Urthblood that this has strained our friendship beyond easy repair, and Latura must be returned, unharmed. In fact, you can send word with one of our Sparra, or even one of your own birds if you prefer, and have the message flashed right away. If you speak truly, this would be a perfect way for you to demonstrate your good faith."

Before he'd even finished speaking, Winokur found himself the target of more than one unfavorable gaze; Roxroy's was more cautionary than anything, the young fox taken aback and apprehensive about anybeast daring his Sword with such flagrant challenge, but Mona's went somewhat beyond that, containing perhaps an edge of ire and defensive challenge of her own. Vanessa too regarded the otter Recorder with a cautionary stare, and was the first to voice her response.

"You know that would never work, Wink. Urthblood just fought a small-scale war to get Latura; he'll not relinquish her after that. On this score, at least, I must agree with Tolar; these events lie beyond us now, and we must move forward and see where we go from here, recognizing the situation for what it is rather than what we might wish it to be. But it seems to me our swordfox friends now have a decision to make. If Urthblood should decide on further action against this Abbey, where will Foxguard stand?"

A dire silence settled over the table, and at all the tables around it with their own curious onlookers, in the wake of this all-important question being voiced. But it took Tolar only a few brief moments to compose his response.

"Abbess, I would never join in any attack, assault or action against Redwall without egregious provocation on your part. You would have to directly attack Foxguard yourselves before I would even contemplate such a thing. And even then I might seek a negotiated, diplomatic resolution to spare further bloodshed and loss of life. And to be frank, Abbess, I cannot envision such a scenario arising. You would never move against Foxguard, would you?"

"You seemed convinced, four seasons ago, that we had done just that, when Snoga attacked and you at first mistook them for Log-a-Log's Guosim, thinking Redwall and our allies might be moving against you to prevent the completion of Foxguard."

Tolar reared back in his seat as if slapped, bristling at being so brusquely confronted by this old incident. "A hasty rush to judgment in the heat of conflict on my part, I concede, and one made before I was even Sword. I'd like to think I've matured in my present role since then, and gained some greater appreciation of the responsibilities of leadership. Surely you can't still hold that against me?"

"Hold it against you? Perhaps not ... although it did distress me at the time that you could so easily think the worst of us. But even with your newfound maturity, things could still escalate. At this point, it's impossible to predict what Urthblood might do next. What we need to know, Sword, is whether, if that badger directly orders you to take part in any military action against Redwall - will you follow those orders? Or will you honor your professed friendship with us over and above your loyalty to Urthblood?"

"I ... cannot imagine the state of affairs you describe coming to pass, not even in light of all that has happened. You yourself just said you believe Lord Urthblood will not press the matter of Captain Scarbatta, now that he has the ratmaid he sought."

"I have been known to be mistaken, on occasion. But it's beginning to look as if Urthblood is very adept indeed at creating crises, and then directing and exploiting them for his own ends. If he decides further action against us suits his purposes, he could orchestrate events so that you're at war with us before you even realize that's what's happening."

"Then I shall simply have to remain especially vigilant, and always look to diplomatic viewpoints in all situations. But I will not participate in any war against Redwall unless Redwall strikes first. Would you ever strike first, Abbess?"

Nobeast else noticed how Winokur stiffened at this question, and looked searchingly to the Abbess as if this wording might hold special significance for her.

"I suppose that would very largely be a matter of definitions, Sword. And if we have Urthblood creating emergencies left and right and forcing conflict whenever he possesses ulterior motives for doing so, and then defining actions as he sees fit, he might very well maintain we have struck first, even if we have done no such thing."

"Then I would be forced to rely on my own, less fluid definitions. But I would not engage Redwall without compelling grounds that leave me no choice."

"Even if ordered?"

"If those orders ever come, Abbess, I shall have to consider them very, very carefully. And that is all I can say on the matter at this point."

Vanessa pursed her lips. "Fair enough. We have, admittedly, hit you with so much here today all at once, you can hardly be expected to absorb it all and issue any definitive or binding proclamations as to your future actions. I trust we have made a good start in that direction, however, and laid a solid foundation for further discussions and understandings."

"Abbess ... if I may ... "

Vanessa's gaze went to the vixen among them. "Yes, Mona?"

"I have been sitting here listening to your account of these events, and paying special heed to your voice and manner, and I am struck by one thing above all else. In the midst of these tumultuous events, leading up to armed conflict, you just ... miraculously came back to yourself, suddenly and completely? Fully recovered from your malady?"

The mouse gave a knowing, serene smile. "Yes, I suppose you could say there was something of a miracle to it. It was Latura, of course. Her gifts were quite genuine - as they must have been, if Urthblood considered her special enough to mount an expedition and engage in deception against his professed allies just to bring her to him. And her powers went beyond the merely prophetic; one touch from her was all it took to bring me back to myself, and allow me to resume my role as Abbess. For that alone, we owe Latura a great debt - and this casts Urthblood's actions into an even more negative light from our viewpoint, as you can surely understand."

"Yes, but ... " Mona's features screwed up as if the reality of Vanessa's return caused her discomfort. "In my youth, I was often told that my own healing talents were not entirely of this world ... that I was able to tap into some sphere beyond the physical, and know aspects of my patients' conditions which could not be known through mortal means. Given that, I would think I might at least have sensed the possibility of healing that this mere ratmaid has achieved ... "

"Perhaps I was hiding from you."

Mona was too shocked by this inappropriate frivolity to respond.

"You know how mischievous I was in my former state. If you failed to divine what Latura did, you are hardly to be blamed. And, as I trust we've already well established, this is no 'mere rat' we speak of here. Just as Urthblood sought her because he feared her power might rival his own, so did she open a door for me nobeast else could have, allowing me to step through and leave behind an existence as an addle-brained, impaired former Abbess. She is the reason I am here now."

"So," Mona probed further, "you attribute your recovery to the spiritual rather than the medicinal?"

"I suppose you could put it that way. This is Redwall, after all, and matters of the spirit have always loomed very large here."

"Still, the physical side of this rejuvenation must be studied as well. Abbess, when we finish here, I must perform a full examination on you up in the Infirmary, to make sure you are truly as hale as you appear, and that no hidden complications threaten your well being."

Again Winokur looked to Vanessa with a special significance not shared by any other, curious to see how the mouse responded to this imperative from the lands' most accomplished healerbeast.

Vanessa's snout merely wrinkled. "As I have said, this is Redwall, and I am Abbess here. I get to say who examines me and who doesn't - and I would also remind you, Mona, that I know a thing or two about the healing arts myself, being one of the more successful Infirmary keepers of recent generations before becoming Abbess."

Mona displayed an expression that was half-scowl and half-pout at this rebuff. Collecting herself to show proper deference, in tone if not in word, she responded, "The healer who treats herself has a fool for a patient. An old Northlands saying, Abbess. And I might caution that in spite of your own not inconsiderable expertise and knowledge in this area, perhaps you are too close to yourself to be fully objective? I would likely catch things you might miss."

"And just what kinds of ... things would those be?"

"Have Arlyn or Metellus checked your eyes, to make sure your pupils are dilating properly, and that there's no bloodiness or spotting? Have your ears been checked for ringing, loss of hearing, or discharge? Have you been made to stand on one leg or walk heel to toe along a straight chalk line to test your balance? Have your reflexes been tested at all? The brain and nervous system is a complex and tricky thing, Abbess, and symptoms in any of these areas could indicate more serious underlying problems."

"It seems to me I displayed a far more serious symptom than any of those for the past three seasons, and you had no clue what to do about it, so even if you did find some issue of concern, what would you do to treat it? I mean no disrespect or disparagement, Mona; I am merely reminding you of the uniqueness of my situation. But it's all moot anyway, for I can assure you that my vision and hearing are better than you can possibly imagine. And as for the rest ... " Vanessa's gaze went to Harth. "I'm sure you'll be hearing in good time about some of my more active exploits in the Infirmary this season which will leave no doubt as to the robust state of my balance and reflexes ... as much as I might wish to put that particular incident behind me."

Mona was clearly disheartened and disappointed by this firm dismissal of her medical concerns, but seemed content to let the matter rest, at least for the moment. Vanessa turned to Tolar. "So, Sword, now that we have fully appraised you of the happenings here at Redwall since your last visit, it's your turn to share with us the reason which brings you to us at this time."

The swordfox chieftain looked askance at the backpack leaning against his chair leg on the floor. "In all honesty, Abbess, after what's been covered here so far, my own announcement would prove somewhat anticlimactic, I fear, and come across as almost trivial. Perhaps we can delay that until the evening meal?"

"Oh, nonsense! After baiting our curiosity like that, you simply can't keep us waiting. Whatever your news happens to be, you can certainly share it with us now. I would insist on it."

Tolar's knit brow telegraphed his divided feelings over the choice facing him now, but at last he reached for the pack, untying the drawstring keeping it closed. "Very well. I'd hoped to unveil this latest labor of ours under happier circumstances, or at least ones less dark than I've found here, but I suppose it can't be helped. At least I see Captain Grayfoot is present at one of the side tables, which is convenient, since this will directly impact him as well." The fox dipped into the open sack and, amid a rummaging of clinks, withdrew a dull, round ingot, of a size to fit nicely in a beast's palm, and held it up for all to see. "Abbess, friends, goodbeasts all, may I present to you ... the Realm!"

Whatever reception Tolar had hoped would greet his grand declaration must surely have surpassed the sea of silent, expectant and mystified faces regarding him and his exhibit now. Colonel Clewiston broke the silence, giving voice to the thought undoubtedly on the minds of many there, if expressed in his own unique idiom.

"The realm of blinkin' _wot_?"

Deflated, Tolar lowered his paw. "This, my friends, is the new unit of currency devised by Lord Urthblood to expedite and make uniform all trade in Mossflower and the Northlands."

"Currency?" Winokur repeated, the word strange on his tongue.

"You mean ... money?" Geoff followed up, the last word falling from his lips like an imprecation of something unwholesome. "That is ... most curious, and unexpected ... "

"And a very odd thing to bring to Redwall," Vanessa added, "since we've no use whatsoever for such a thing here. In fact, it runs counter to pretty much all we stand for. Whatever made you - or Urthblood - suspect we would welcome anything like this?"

"In all honesty, Abbess, we had actually hoped that Redwall might agree to serve as a distribution point for this new currency. We were rather counting on it, actually."

"Distribution point?" echoed Geoff, seeming to catch Winokur's tendency of repeating what the Sword said.

"Yes. The way beasts come and go at this Abbey, it would ideally suit our purposes for this disbursement. As would Grayfoot's Tavern. We'd anticipated employing both - along with Foxguard itself - to help get the Realms out into the paws and pockets of Mossflower's general populace."

"Rats excepted, natch'rally," Harth bitterly commented.

Tolar ignored the rodent refugee at the table. "I understand that the timing of this overture may be rather inopportune if not downright awkward, but it seems fate has picked this moment and these circumstances for us, so I can only forge ahead in accordance with my own preparations, which were not tied in to the other events we've discussed here. I hope that you can keep an open mind about this, Abbess, and not be swayed or prejudiced against this effort due to the actions of some of my allies."

"How can we not be, Sword? This currency edict comes from your master - the very same master who personally ordered and sanctioned the treacherous abduction of a creature granted sanctuary here, and who was willing to use deadly force against us to get his way. However blameless you and your foxes may have been in all of that, you now speak on behalf of Urthblood, promoting another of his projects for purposes we can only guess at. These incidents leave us guessing whether we are now technically in a state of war with Urthblood, or whether to declare him an enemy of Redwall. Under such circumstances, it is absolutely out of the question that we partake in any scheme of his, even if in this case his aims may be benevolent. I'm sorry that you wasted the trip, but you'll just have to lug all these 'Realms' with you back to Foxguard."

"Unless you'd like us to lighten th' jolly load for you." Clewiston turned to Vanessa. "Should we confiscate the whole lot, marm? Call it reparations for our war dead?"

Tolar regarded the hare with a cold, narrowed gaze. "That, I would not allow."

But Harth was quick to pick up on the Colonel's suggestion. "We could hold 'em 'gainst Lattie's return. That badger might not care for creature's lives, but maybe he'll feel differently 'bout his riches." He stared hard at Tolar. "Most vermin would feel that way, at least. Might be a good way t' gauge his true measure, eh?"

"I don't recommend you try it." Tolar looked back to Vanessa. "Abbess, you wouldn't seriously consider this, would you? Because if you're not actually at war with Lord Urthblood at this moment, that's one act which would without doubt nudge things closer in that direction."

"Relax, Sword. We've no interest in your piles of ugly metal discs. Not as bargaining chips, and certainly not as tokens of exchange. If others elsewhere in Mossflower show the bad sense to buy into these 'Realms' and start ordering their lives around them, that's their own foolishness. But we'll be no part of using or spreading them - no part whatsoever."

"I see." Tolar heaved what was likely the most resigned sigh heard at Redwall so far that season. "I had hoped for more, but then, I could never have anticipated finding what I did here. In light of everything, I suppose we should count ourselves lucky to have been admitted at all. Although I must correct you on one small point, Abbess: These Realms will not be going back to Foxguard with us. Or at least not all of them. If Redwall will not aid in their distribution, then that leaves more we will be depositing with Grayfoot at his tavern - and it will leave him as the primary distributor on this side of the Moss."

Winokur asked, "May I see that, please?" Tolar, after the slightest of hesitations, complied, passing the coin to the otter Recorder. Wink studied it, turning it over in his webbed paw. "It's rather ... dull. Not exactly something that screams of having value, is it?"

"Lord Urthblood forsook the use of silver or gold, or any other precious materials, for the production of the Realms. They are to be common currency, after all, used and exchanged by the common folk of the lands, not just the privileged. As such, they were never meant to look other than ... utilitarian. If they looked too much like treasures, their owners might be reluctant to part with them for goods - which would, again, rather defeat their purpose."

"Hmm. And I see a certain badger's profile prominently featured on one side, with a certain seaside mountain fortress depicted on the other. The detail is rather fine, but the choice of subjects makes me wonder why they weren't minted at Salamandastron rather than Foxguard. Are they all like this?"

"Yes, the design is uniform. They were stamped to make them all as close to identical as possible, on presses Captain Custis brought with him from the coast. You must have seen them when you inspected their carts. He wasn't too happy about that, as he related that incident to me."

"At least now we know what all that metal they bore with them was for," said Geoff. "And that Custis spoke truthfully about it not being for weapons purposes. As for the presses, we did see a number of tools and devices strange to us, but we must have assumed they were either part of the Gawtrybe's forestry equipment, or else among the apparatus Trelayne would be using in his own work."

"Pass that trinket here a tic, wouldja, Wink chappie?" Winokur obliged by giving the coin to Clewiston, who screwed up his eyes as he examined it. "Hrmph - no hare of th' Patrols would grouse about seein' their traditional mountain home memorialized in such a fashion. An' as for the other face, I s'pose if you scrunch up your eyes just right, it could pass for Lord Urthfist, don'tcha know. But, we all know better, don't we?" Hauling back his arm without warning, he hurled the Realm clear across Great Hall, where it lightly clattered on the steps leading down to Cavern Hole.

Tolar favored Clewiston with a dour look of disapproval. "And just what did you hope to accomplish by_ that_ Colonel?"

"Just wanted to see how they fly. Right jolly well, as it turns out. Much better than your flippin' proposal surroundin' 'em did, wot? Mebbe we will ask you t' leave a pack or two of 'em with us after all - for 'distributing' as we see fit. We could use 'em to pelt any more treachery-minded squirrels who show their faces around here."

"That is _not_ their intended purpose."

"P'raps not, foxchum, but anything you leave at Redwall will be used as Redwall bloody well sees fit. Sorry if that snarls your fur, but Abbey rights, don'tcha know."

"You've made your point, Colonel. Now please have one of your hares go retrieve Tolar's wayward Realm for him. I'm sure he'll be wanting it back for his trip to Foxguard, or Grayfoot's, or wherever his paws will carry him next." Vanessa turned to the fox. "I know this must hardly be the answer you were hoping for, Sword, but then, this was hardly the favor we'd expected to be asked. And if Lord Urthblood was truly counting on our cooperation in this, he certainly should have behaved differently toward us than he has so far this season, shouldn't he?"

"This much seems readily apparent, and entirely understandable. Will we at least be able to stay the night here, or would that be asking too much, in light of all that's happened?"

"You and your foxes are welcome to stay with us for as long as you like, since you have had no paw in these actions against us this season - and I suppose the same applies to your weasels as well, who have done nothing to violate our rules or hospitality. And of course Master Trelayne and his assistant, who have never been anything but polite and observant of our ways during their time with us. You must understand, Sword, our issues lie not with any of you, but with the campaigns plotted and orchestrated by your master - including this latest one with the Realms. As long as all of you continue to conduct yourselves as you have in the past, we will still regard Foxguard as a friendly neighbor, and you will remain welcome here."

"Well, that is a relief to hear, Abbess. We would have sorely missed the opportunity to rest up before we move out, and to enjoy a stay at Redwall, however strained relations may have grown in other areas. I'd not want to pass on a chance to visit with Lady Mina - assuming she feels up to socializing - and of course Roxroy will want to catch up with Winokur. Not to mention that Trelayne and Kyslith will need to make amends to Geoff and fashion a replacement figurine for him."

"On that score," Vanessa conceded. "they've no amends to make whatsoever, since blame for the ruination of their prior efforts falls squarely on me. But a replacement will be most welcome, with thanks from both me and Geoff."

"And I will be happy to spend another day or two tutoring Metellus in the healing arts," Mona volunteered. "We've not had any sessions since I was last here for Nameday, half a season and more ago, and I'll be very interested to see how he's progressing."

"He progresses better than ever," Vanessa assured the vixen, "now that I am once more in a position to help Arlyn with his training. I hazard he may no longer need to make any more trips to Foxguard for that purpose, now that he has two teachers here."

"Oh." It seemed to everybeast looking on that Mona was not as crestfallen or piqued by Vanessa's tone of implied rebuff as might be expected of her. "Perhaps it is for the best. It is hardly a convenient journey, all the way across the Moss, and with everything going on these days ... "

The young badger in question, seated alongside Mona, patted her arm in solidarity. "Don't worry, Madam Mona. I've learned so much from you already, and value our time together greatly. I will always make room in what I'm doing for more lessons with you, whether here or at Foxguard."

Mona patted his paw. "Thank you, Metellus. We'll see what comes of it, then, won't we?"

"Since you didn't bring your whole brigade," Vanessa said to Tolar, "I'm sure we can find room for you to dorm down in Cavern Hole. Our visiting mouse and vole and badger guests might not be accustomed to sharing accommodations with foxes and weasels, but then neither were we, until recent seasons. We'll start getting your bedding together, so that it will be ready for you by nightfall."

"That is greatly appreciated, Abbess. It is heartening to know that even in such troubled times, Redwall's ways of understanding and openmindedness endure."

"Let it always be so, may we hope."

The meeting broke up then, with each group of beasts going their own way to pursue their respective interests: Mona conferring with Metellus and Arlyn on healers' matters; Trelayne and Kyslith gravitating toward Geoff to discuss firing up the outdoor kiln to craft another sculpture of the former Abbot; and Tolar calling aside Grayfoot to work out the logistics of distributing the Realms through the ferret's tavern. Roxroy moved to seek the company of his favored otter friend, but Winokur indulged the momentary patience of the junior swordfox and instead hastened after Vanessa upon seeing that she meant to head off on her own, away from anybeast else. Catching up to her at the bottom of the spiral staircase leading to the first dormitory level, he called out, "Abbess ... Nessa ... "

"Yes, Wink?"

He glanced around to make sure nobeast could overhear, belatedly realizing how unfounded such a concern was owing to the other's spectral awareness of all things within the Abbey. "What are we to make of this? All Tolar's foxes coming here, and with all those weasels no less, at this of all times. What are they up to? How does this fit in with Urthblood's recent moves against us? It can't be coincidence."

"This time, that's exactly what it is. You see how much coinage they brought with them; that all took a long time, and a tremendous amount of effort, to produce. They just happened to finish the task and journey here while we were still reeling from the Latura affair. And he would hardly have brought along Trelayne and his assistant, or Mona, or Roxroy for that matter, if he'd harbored nefarious designs. This timing is as awkwardly innocent as Tolar claims."

"Can we be sure? Urthblood plans pretty far ahead. What if this business with the Realms is just another cover story, like Matowick's ruse of false negotiations so he could get at Lattie? These swordfoxes are some of Urthblood's most formidable fighters, and this story has gotten them inside our walls ... " Winokur looked severely discomfited by what he was suggesting. "I mean, Rox would never lift a blade against any of us, but I don't know if the same could be said for all of Tolar's foxes - not with certainty. Or those weasels either."

Vanessa gave another of the secret smiles she was so good at these days. "Ah, but we have a secret weapon now that we didn't have when Matowick pulled the wool over our eyes."

"Oh? What?"

"An Abbess who knows beasts' minds. I was probing Tolar constantly just now, and if he were playing us false, I'd have known it in an instant. He really is here because of the Realms - and I sense he is less than delighted about the whole thing himself."

"Well, that's a relief. But I still find it hard to believe they didn't know anything of what was going on in the Western Plains. I've been up there, and the views are pretty much all-encompassing, in every direction. Custis and his squirrels surely must have seen the battle unfolding, and much of our pursuit as well. Could he really have kept his fox hosts completely in the dark about all of that?"

"It appears so. Who can say what orders Foxguard's Gawtrybe had from Urthblood? If they even realized it was a battle - if they even fully understood what was going on - they may well have been under orders not to share any of their observations with Tolar. In fact, this could be the very reason Custis insisted on having only his Gawtrybe take the towertop watches. And, as we've seen, Tolar has been quite busy with other things, to the tune of packfuls of Realms - not to mention however the Purge may be unfolding on their side of the Moss." She paused. "But in a way, I think Tolar's arrival at this juncture may prove especially providential for us."

"Oh? In what way?"

"As I probed Tolar for truthfulness during our discussions, I touched upon a deep dissatisfaction. One which leads me to believe things between him and the Gawtrybe are not as cordial or cooperative as he would have us think. And now that he has learned of Urthblood's most recent actions, he is left wondering about his standing with that badger as well. It's too soon to tell whether this might be the germ of some genuine rift between them, but if my gambit with Latura fails and Urthblood surmises my paw in it, we could be left in a very bad spot indeed. This is one possibility we may be forced to exploit to the fullest."

"A ... rift? Between Foxguard and Urthblood? Tolar would never let that happen! And neither would Urthblood! He needs his fox fortress in Mossflower too badly, and Tolar needs that badger's approval to have legitimacy! That brigade and its training wouldn't exist without Urthblood, and neither would Foxguard!"

"Perhaps Tolar seeks a different kind of legitimacy - one that places greater value on a friend and ally just across the river than an aloof Badger Lord all the way out on the Western Shore. It seems Urthblood already pursues a path which alienates his present Sword, and if Tolar comes to feel sufficiently undermined and taken for granted, it may take no more than a nudge or two on our part to capitalize on his complex of estrangement." Vanessa turned and started up the stairs. "In case you've forgotten, I can be very ... persuasive."


	26. Chapter 98

**CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT**

Long before Alex and Palter made it down from the western foothills onto the coastal plains, a heavy escort of gulls surrounded them, flocking overhead and on all sides with a presence intimidating if not outright harrying. And long before they made it to Salamandastron's gates, a company of Gawtrybe blocked their way, preventing them from taking one step closer to the mountain stronghold.

Ignoring the rat for the moment, the Northland squirrels' leader barked at Alexander, "What brings you here, Redwaller? Do you come with good will, or ill?"

"Your Lord has expended a great deal of ill will toward me and my friends, so you've no place even asking me that question. I have come to demand answers from him for his actions, and I will have them."

"If you've two acorns' worth of sense to rub together, you'll turn around right now and head back the way you came."

Alex nodded past them at the mountain looming so close. "That'd be rather foolish, with my destination right there."

"More foolish still, perhaps, to keep going. We're inclined to grant you a free pass and forget we saw you, but once you're inside, Lord Urthblood will have final say on your fate."

"Then we'll just have to see which of us gets the last word - him, or me."

"Won't be you, I'll guarantee. Very well. Surrender your quiver and blade, if you are determined to press on with this, and we'll escort you inside."

Alex didn't protest; he'd expected to be disarmed, and perhaps taken into custody, before this venture was concluded - at the very least. Passing his weapons to the adversary squirrels, he inclined his head toward Palter. "And what of my companion? Is he to be bound and frog-marched the rest of the way?"

The Gawtrybe leader laughed. "To what purpose? He's delivered himself to the heart of our domain. There's nowhere for him to escape to now. If he makes a run for it, he'll not get far - our gulls will see to that."

These words hardly reassured Palter, but he wasn't about to turn back now, even if he could have. Summoning his scant reserves of courage, he asked, "Where's Lattie? What've y' done with 'er?"

The squirrel guards scowled as one in distaste. "We don't answer questions from the likes of that one."

"But it's a perfectly good question," Alex countered, "so I'll ask it in his stead. Where is Latura now? Does she still live?"

"Lord Urthblood will decide how much you're entitled to know about any of that. Last chance to turn back, friend. Otherwise, come along with us ... "

As Alex marched down toward the tideline on their course to reach the seaward-facing main gates, the Gawtrybe escorts closed around him almost as tightly as they did the forlorn Palter. "So," he said to his fellow squirrels, as the gulls continued to circle and squawk overhead, "the other tracks coming down this side of the range were quite clear and easy to read in places. One squirrel, and one rat. Was it Captain Matowick himself who made it through alive, or did one of his underlings have to complete the mission for him? Not that it matters much to me; one's just as guilty of crimes against Redwall as the other."

"I'd stow that talk of crimes if I were you," the squad leader warned. "These are the coastlands, and soon you'll be inside Salamandastron, where Urthblood's word is law, and he decides what's a crime and what isn't."

"His word is growing worthless these days inside Redwall, where these affronts took place. What we witnessed was a violation of our hospitality bordering on treachery, and we will call it what we see it to be. I am one of the Abbey's chief defenders, and you'll find my voice carries considerable authority in such matters. If my treatment here leads me to believe Urthblood is an enemy of Redwall, I will make that voice heard loud and clear at our councils. And if I never make it back to the Abbey, my absence at those councils will speak even louder than my words would have."

The Gawtrybe regarded him with a new modicum of respect. "A chief defender, you say? Would you happen to be Alexander, Lady Mina's husband?"

He nodded. "I was Mina's husband when I left Redwall. Whether that relationship can be mended in light of all that's happened, I shall have to wait and see when I get back."

The Gawtrybe considered this. "In that case, you'll not be harmed or imprisoned - not if we have anything to say about it. We have heard that Lady Mina was wounded by an arrow. Was it serious?"

"She seemed safely out of danger when last I saw her."

"And yet you chose to journey here, rather than return to be by her side?"

"Mina has an entire Abbey to see to her care. Latura didn't have anybeast to look after her."

The Gawtrybe had no retort to that, and they marched around the north limb of Salamandastron in silence. Coming fully about to the seaward side, Alex and Palter beheld for the first time the jetty pier and the various vessels tied up to it. "That wasn't there last time I was here," Alex remarked, "and I see you're getting all types of company these days."

"With the Accord in place, Salamandastron has become a more important center of trade and diplomacy than ever before." The hint of pride in the Northlander's tone was unmistakable.

Regarding the red, black and green sails of the _Redfoam_, Alex added, "Seems strange seeing a searat ship anchored here as if it were a routine matter of course. Almost lends credence to the Long Patrols' longstanding suspicions of Urthblood and Tratton conspiring together."

"The Long Patrol belonged to the prior Lord of the Mountain," the Gawtrybe commander dismissed with a derisive snort. "We have a new Lord these days. This is a different age."

"Different isn't always better."

They trudged the rest of the way up into the main entryway in stony silence, both sides realizing neither was going to win over the other, or best them either. Alex felt a rush of mixed nostalgia wash over him, as he had any number of times during this trek. Pushing across the Plains with Palter had for him carried memory echoes of a similar path followed two summers before with Machus and Mina, as had the crossing of the high mountain passes, even more treacherous this time than when they'd met the Long Patrol coming the other way and narrowly avoided coming to blows over which party had the right of way. And now, finally being down on the coastal plain and entering Salamandastron itself, he couldn't help but be transported back to his previous visit here, when two Badger Lords had clashed in a contest of unprecedented calamity, and possibilities both terrible and bold had hung in the balance. Back then, having Mina at his side had meant everything, and made it easier to get through the mind-numbing carnage which had claimed so many lives from both armies.

But Mina was not at his side this time, and Alex found himself wondering now more than ever whether the right badger had emerged victorious in the contest for the throne of Salamandastron.

He found Matowick of all creatures awaiting them in the entry hall, with other squirrels, mice, hedgehogs and weasels arrayed around the natural rock gallery overlooking the high-ceilinged antechamber. Looking the other squirrel squarely in the eye, Alex bit off, "I'm surprised you have the temerity to even show your face to any Redwaller after what you pulled, Captain. Have you no shame at all?"

"Shame? I followed my orders - and nearly paid for it with my life. My companions weren't as lucky as I was. I make no apologies for fulfilling my assigned mission - to you or to anybeast. Now, Lord Urthblood is expecting you, up in the dining hall."

"I remember the way."

"You'll pardon us if we escort you anyway." Matowick's gaze went to Palter. "And His Lordship will want to speak with this one as well, but separately. We've a holding cell reserved for him that he can call home, until he's ready to be handed over to the searats. It's the last privacy he's likely to know for quite some time, so I would advise him to enjoy it while it lasts."

00000000000

In spite of all the visitors presently staying at Salamandastron, Alexander arrived at the dining hall finding it virtually empty. Not only was there no sign of Ambassador Erzath or any of the crew of the _Redfoam_, or Whiskersalt or Wakefern or any of the crew of the _Stronganchor_, or Captain Ramjohn or his first mate Chobor, but all the lower ranks of Urthblood's own forces had been chased from the spacious chamber as well, leaving it nearly deserted.

The Badger Lord himself sat, not at the head of the long central table as might be expected, but off to the side at one of the smaller tables. With him sat his captains, Abellon, Tillamook and Mattoon, and nobeast else. Alex was shown to a chair directly across from Urthblood, while Matowick took the seat to the Redwaller's right.

"I'm glad to see your captains here," Alex told the badger, who regarded him with his usual cool, level gaze. "Others need to hear what I have to say."

"They are not here for your benefit. They have been fully briefed on all aspects of Captain Matowick's mission, and so anything you might think to reveal to them that you would hold to be incriminating, they already know." Urthblood leaned forward over the narrow table, closer to Alexander. "What happened at Redwall?"

For a moment this incongruent inquiry made no sense to Alex, so he repeated it. "What happened at Redwall? You mean, the lies, treachery, deceit, false assurances, betrayal of your professed friendship with Redwall and violation of nearly every tenet of acceptable, civilized behavior? You have overstepped your bounds fatally this time, Lord, and I fear this breach can never be repaired. Where is Latura?"

"She has been surrendered to the searats, in compliance with the Accord."

Alex sat stunned at this even-tempered revelation. "To the searats? Why? You put everybeast through all of that ... risked everything you did ... just to give her over to the searats?"

"Such was not my original intent, but fate decreed I follow that course instead."

"That ship tied up outside now - is she aboard it?"

"She is. What happened at Redwall?"

"Latura must be freed! If there is to be any hope of salvaging peaceful relations with us, you must order the searats to release her, so I can take her back to Redwall. Then, maybe ... maybe."

"This matter resides at a level far beyond diplomacy. This is the province of fate, and of powers you cannot begin to understand. That creature cannot remain in the lands; she is far too dangerous. Now, what happened at Redwall?"

Alex pounded his fists against the arms of his chair. "Why do you keep asking that?! Your own captain here knows what happened at Redwall! He came to us under false pretenses - and under your direct orders - to lie his way into our midst with a fabricated proposal of negotiation and parley, when all he ever intended was to snatch Lattie away from us at the first opportunity and drag her back here to you! He lied to us - to our Abbot, to all of us, right at our own council, he lied, without batting an eye! How can there ever be peace or trust between us now if you and your followers so blatantly violate that trust and shatter the peace with force of arms?"

"It was necessary. Captain Matowick did only as I tasked him to do - and the price was dearly paid, both from your pursuit which cost me many of my gulls, and from the ratmaid herself, who cost the Captain the rest of his squad. And something else as well. You see, in spite of your insistence, he cannot tell me exactly what occurred at Redwall, because he cannot fully recall those events. There is a small hole in his memory, a tiny piece of his timeline which has been stolen from him. Moments which, as it happens, coincide with the ratmaid's removal from the Abbey. Small details he cannot account for - which can only lead me to believe something was meant to remain hidden from him ... and from me. So I will ask you once again, what happened at Redwall? How precisely did Captain Matowick acquire his target and get clear of the Abbey with her? What does she think to hide from me, and to what purpose?"

Long before Urthblood reached his final string of inquiries, Alex glanced sideways to study the Gawtrybe squirrel seated next to him, and found Matowick clearly ill at ease over this public airing of his imposed amnesia, clenching both jaw and paws and refusing to meet any gaze. And the expressions of the others present made it obvious that neither Urthblood nor Matowick had shared this secret before this moment.

"Matti - is it true?" Mattoon asked.

Matowick nodded but held his silence, still declining to look anybeast in the eye.

"It seems our ratmaid possesses many talents: Seeing the future; disrupting the natural world around her; and making others forget what she doesn't want them to remember." Uthblood's gaze fastened upon Alex once more. "So, what can you tell us of this?"

"Me?" The Redwaller held a defiant line. "I know nothing of any of this. But I came here to demand an accounting from _you_, Lord. Not to be interrogated. You'll find me a poor subject for such a line of questioning, if you have it in mind to try."

"There are interrogations, and then there are interrogations. Not all require words." Urthblood leaned even farther forward; due to the narrowness of the table, this brought him so close to Alex that the squirrel could feel the badger's measured breath on his whiskers, which twitched in agitation, as did his tail. Urthblood's cold, unblinking gaze seemed to bore past Alexander's eyes into some deeper realm. It was the same appraising, dissecting stare the Badger Lord had turned upon Matowick the day before in the forge room, which had uncovered the Captain's empty secret.

"Lord, what ... are you ... "

Nobeast there could have said for sure how long it lasted, but at length Urthblood leaned back. "Your memories are whole. Your awareness has not been compromised. Tell me, have you spent much time in close proximity to the rat in question?"

"No ... not really ... "

"Then that would make sense. So tell me about the hour when Captain Matowick's squad made their escape from Redwall? What was going on there? How did it happen?"

After the psychic inspection from his prophetic host, Alex found his uncooperative attitude wavering. "It was total confusion. Vanessa had egged some of our youngsters into misbehaving on a grand scale, contributing to the mayhem herself in no small measure, and in the turmoil, your squirrels got away with Latura ... and Palter, who went out after Lattie to try to coax her back inside before she was discovered. Unfortunately, the Gawtrybe were keeping too close an eye on her, so ... "

"The Abbess?" For the first time, Urthblood expressed surprise. "She was behind the diversion? Captain, is that true?"

This turn in the conversation finally induced Matowick to look his master in the eye. "I ... I have no idea, Lord. This is news to me."

Alex failed to make the immediate connection, assuming Matowick had simply been unaware up until now of Vanessa's paw in all of this. "It never occurred to us it was any kind of diversion. We just chalked it up as unruly behavior ... one of the many pranks and disruptions Nessa has unleashed upon us since becoming afflicted."

"Do her pranks often cast the entire Abbey into such chaos?"

"Well, no ... "

"At least you have confirmed what Captain Matowick has already told me about the ratmaid leaving the Abbey of her own volition, and being taken into custody there. Why would she abandon her haven of sanctuary and expose herself to such jeopardy?"

"Well, she followed Nessa out, according to Palter ... " Something inside Alex was starting to prickle, some vague and uneasy sense of warning he couldn't quite identify. But if there was danger here, he could not pinpoint its nature.

"The Abbess again? First she creates multiple distractions, and then she lures out beyond the Abbey walls the very creature I seek? That hardly sounds like a 'prank' to me. Why would she do such a thing?"

Alex knew exactly why, thanks to the other would-be rescuers who'd set out from the Abbey after he did, rendezvousing with him and Clewiston with the fantastic tale of a Vanessa miraculously returned and ordering that there be no rescue attempt. But that nagging sense of caution persuaded him not to speak of this.

"I could not tell you. I was up in the Infirmary with Mina when the pandemonium broke out, and then I was in Great Hall, helping to deal with all the hornet stings."

"Ah yes. The hornets. Captain Matowick has told me all about that as well. Hardly harmless fun and games, since those insects can be quite dangerous. But, if the Abbess truly did goad the ratmaid into following her out of Redwall ... " Urthblood looked to Matowick again. "Then she should have been there when you made the capture. Was she?"

Matowick slowly shook his head as if in a pained daze. "I ... do not remember any such thing, My Lord."

Most curious." Urthblood returned his attention to Alex. "And just when did your Abbess return inside, and make it clear what she had done?"

Alarm bells were going off inside Alexander's head now. Of course Matowick had to have seen Vanessa outside with Latura; Palter's own account of those events had made that much clear. He stared at the badger seated across from him, suddenly realizing something which should have occurred to him long before now: Everything he knew about the circumstances surrounding Latura's abduction had reached him through inference and secondpaw reports. First he and Clewiston had followed the tracks of squirrels and rats out through the east wallgate, and only surmised what had transpired through examination of the evidence before their eyes. And then, later, once they'd rescued Palter from the Gawtrybe, that rat had filled in the gaps, maintaining that Vanessa had indeed lured Latura out of the Abbey, allowing for the prophetess to be captured. And, in light of Vanessa's mandate that no rescue be mounted to recover Latura, it all made sense in its own internally convoluted way. Alexander had not even seen Vanessa since his childhood friend and former Abbess had returned to her senses and reclaimed the leadership of Redwall for her own. So much of what had happened had happened in his absence, and he realized now that he still had nearly as many questions about these events as Urthblood himself. Alex simple had not been on paw to witness so many of the crucial moments in this affair.

But Palter had.

A cold wave of apprehension washed over him. He still could not discern what the peril here might be, but a sudden conviction gripped him that Urthblood must not speak with the rat. Something Palter knew, something he had seen or heard, might prove the key to unlocking this mystery. And if Urthblood gained that key ...

"What happened at Redwall?"

Goaded by this repeated, bludgeoning question, Alexander said exactly the wrong thing. "I don't know," he practically snarled. "I wasn't there."

This retort, meant as a stinging rebuke, spurred Urthblood to rise, pushing his oversized chair back with a tortured scrape.

"Then you are not the beast I should be talking to."

And the crimson-armed badger strode from the dining hall without another word.

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Palter had never seen another creature like Urthblood - not even Sodexo, upon whose shoulders he rode partway across the Western Plains. When the current Lord of Salamandastron entered the tiny chamber where Palter was being kept alone with but one lamp and no window to the outside world, the rat pressed himself against the back of his chair and slunk down a bit, shrinking from the other's imposing presence. Urthblood stood nearly half a head taller than Sodexo, and the burnished red armor encasing his torso made him appear some mythic figure of war rather than a mere mortal. Not even the missing right paw could diminish the effect; if anything, the heavy iron wrist cap only cast this badger as all the more formidable, as if any attempt to destroy him would be doomed to fail, and only render him more fearsome.

The warrior settled himself upon the room's only other chair, across the small plain table from Palter, crossing left paw over the iron wrist cap on the tabletop.

"What happened at Redwall?"

Palter gaped at Urthblood as if his utterance made no sense. "What ... whaddya mean?"

"The day you left - how did that come to pass?"

"It came t' pass 'cos yer red-furred, bushtailed, rat-slayin' devils took us an' hauled us away from where we were safe an' dragged us all across Mossflower t' this fur-forsaken hunk o' rock!" Now that Palter had been properly prompted, he let his sense of umbrage and outrage take control, practically speaking for him.

"But they had help, didn't they? Tell me, what part did the Abbess play in all of this?"

"Aw, she was as bad as yer lot! First she baits Lattie inta goin' out where it wasn't safe an' yer minions could snatch 'er, then she goes an' orders nobeast t' try 'n' rescue us! 'Tween her 'n' you, we didn't stand a chance!"

"Her orders? What do you mean?"

"Once we'd been captured, an' were out bein' dragged across those awful plains, she ordered ev'rybeast else at Redwall t' stand down an' not come after us, an' just let you have us!"

"How could the Abbess give any such orders? She is ... impaired. Geoff has been Abbot in her stead for the past three seasons."

"Well, looks like she got 'erself unimpaired right quick when it counted, an' booted their Abbot right outta his chair. Like she planned it all along, which I don't doubt she did."

"And you are sure of this? Of Abbess Vanessa regaining her senses, and reclaiming the leadership of Redwall?"

"Heard it from hares an' from shrews who were there t' see it fer themselves. An' from a badger too. She forbid any Abbeybeast from comin' after us."

"And yet they violated her mandate? Disobeyed her direct orders?"

"Th' hares said they were actin' as Long Patrol, not Redwallers, an' th' shrews said th' same about actin' as Guosim, so neither felt bound by her orders. An' that badger ain't even from around Redwall - came up from somewhere way down south, 'parently - so he wasn't actin' in the name of the Abbey neither. Even some o' their birds helped out with scoutin' an' messages. Don't reckern the Abbess coulda been too tickled 'bout any of it, but what was she gonna do about it?"

"It appears she wanted me to get the ratmaid, and took great pains to aid my Gawtrybe's success in this venture. Why would this be, when Redwall shelters so many other fugitives?"

"Heard the others say she was afraid you'd go to war with Redwall t' get Lattie, an' she wanted t' keep that from hap'nin'." Palter stared at Urthblood, with a gaze taking every ounce of his meagre courage. "Wouldja have?"

"That question will now never be answered, due to the wisdom displayed by the restored Abbess. Still, it does raise questions. And then there is the matter of you. Why did you continue on here, after the force from Redwall had liberated you from Captain Matowick's squad?"

"Lattie said ... she said I hadta ... go t' sea."

Urthblood nodded. "That is her fate, and it will now be yours as well. So, you came to Salamandastron just to fulfill her prophecy? Was that your own choice, or were you enslaved to her will?"

"Lattie'd never do anything like that!"

"Perhaps you understand her less than you think. That one spews out webs of fate affecting the world around her, and I am not certain even she can control all she does."

"Then y' shoulda left 'er alone! Y' shoulda left us all alone! We was happy livin' in our own liddle seaside village, botherin' nobeast an' nobeast botherin' us. She'da been alright there, wouldn'ta troubled you at all. Why'd y' hafta come after us rats like this? Why're doin' alla this? Was it all 'cos o' Lattie? It was, wasn't it?"

"You believe I would instigate a seasons-long campaign of resettlement, commit so many of my resources to that cause, and risk alienating friends and allies, all for the sake of a single creature?"

"Um ... yes?"

"You rats are a problematic species. No kinship with weasels, stoats or ferrets, more troublesome and less trainable than foxes - truly, when I commenced my efforts to tame the Northlands and bring all creatures under my banner, rats gave me more trouble than all the other species combined. Stubborn, complaining, slow to integrate and put their vermin ways behind them. The Accord with Tratton provided the perfect solution to this problem. He can have all rats for his own, like dwelling among like, and we of the lands will be free of them. And to gain the freedom of all Tratton's woodlander slaves in the bargain, and to end the open warfare between Salamandastron and Terramort ... was I truly to pass up such an opportunity?"

"You had no right! Not t' reach inta th' lives of honest rats who were mindin' their own business, livin' on their own an' not botherin' anybeast else! To snatch us from our homes an' ship us off t' slavery in chains, or worse!"

"That is not your place to decide."

Palter sat momentarily stunned by the sheer arrogance of the badger before him. "So, 're y' gonna stop it now? Stop roundin' up us rats?"

"Stop the campaign? Why would I?"

"Well, y' got Lattie now, an' if she were th' reason fer yer Purge ... "

"Were you not just listening to me? I had multiple reasons for my present course of action; they simply happened to dovetail to this precise juncture in the way that they did. But the resettlement campaign is too far along now, too inextricably intertwined with the Accord. Suspending it now would cause too many problems, even were I of a mind to do so. It must continue."

"You ... you heartless, cold ... ye're just a tyrant, no matter what you 'n' yer followers say! Ain't no diff'rence 'tween you an' any other warlord who's ever terrorized th' lands!"

"There is a difference. I would gladly be a tyrant to one species in order to save all others."

"Yah ... an' I guess Abbess Martymouse would agree with that - which leaves all us rats out in th' cold."

An instant change overcame Urthblood, who now stared intently at Palter. "What did you just say?"

"Um ... us rats're gettin' left out in th' cold?" Palter asked, his embittered tone giving way to one of puzzlement.

"No. About the Abbess. What did you just call her?"

"Oh, uh, Martymouse?"

"Why did you use that name?"

"That name? That's just some silly thing Lattie came up with. She called the Abbess by it when we was first snatched, an' once or twice since then too."

"Why?"

"Not sure. She never did explain it. Just, kinda, th' name fit, is all."

Urthblood leaned back in his chair, his gaze suddenly far away. "Marty ... mouse ... Abbess ... "

And then something happened which had not happened in nearly thirty seasons: Urthblood smiled.

It started with the preliminary lifting of the corners of his mouth, as if in bemusement. But quickly it spread, peeling back from glistening fangs, the grin splitting the striped face so wide that it surely must have been painful, an involuntary rictus all-encompassing. It was a grin to devour the world.

And Palter, beholding that grin in the light cast by the cell's single lamp, fainted dead away from sheer terror.

00000000000

"Lord ... what's wrong with your face?"

Everybeast could see it upon Urthblood's return to the dining hall, where Alexander and the Northland captains had held their places during Palter's brief interrogation. The Badger Lord's perpetually-taciturn face was different somehow - pained, or altered, or perhaps even faintly suggesting a smile that couldn't possibly be trying to break out.

"Merely a momentary spasm, Captain Tillamook," Urthblood responded as he resumed his seat. "It has passed, with only minimal strain and discomfort. Leave us now - I must speak with Alexander alone. Wait upon my call."

The four captains obeyed, rising and filing away to gather upon one of the connecting stairways, where they could answer his summons when he issued it without overhearing the private conversation their master clearly desired.

Urthblood's gaze fastened on the Redwall squirrel. "When last you were here at Salamandastron, you demanded to know more of my prophecy. I am ready to tell you now, so ask."

This was the last thing Alex had expected, and he sat for some moments staring in bewilderment at Urthblood's somehow-transformed visage. At last he managed, "What has that to do with Latura?"

"The ratmaid is no longer of primary relevance. That danger to me is past. I have blunted that blade, and now I shall blunt another. Let us talk rather of the truly important things, the vital core at the center of all. Let me answer what you inquired of me two summers ago."

"Two summers ago?"

"You stand as one of four creatures alive to have gazed upon my prophecy with your own eyes. On that occasion, you pressed me on one thing in particular that struck you about it."

Suddenly, Alex remembered. "Redwall. A pictogram of Redwall, clear and unmistakable, right at the center of the carving."

"Yes. Redwall was always destined to play a not inconsiderable role in the events of this age. You see, in addition to foretelling the great crisis I have labored so hard for so many seasons to forestall, I believe that prophecy also ordains me the greatest fighting beast of all." Urthblood paused, his focus intent upon the squirrel. "Who is the greatest warrior who ever lived?"

Alex stammered, not sure what to say, or what his menacing host wanted him to say. "I ... I don't know ... "

"Of course you do. Forget where you are now. You are a Redwaller, so answer as any Redwaller would. Who is the greatest warrior of all time?"

In this context, Alex didn't even hesitate. "Martin. Martin the Warrior."

Urthblood leaned back, apparently satisfied that the other had finally replied as anticipated. "And there you have it. Ask any Abbeybeast ... ask any resident of Mossflower familiar with Redwall's history ... ask any Noonvaler, for that matter ... and the answer will always be the same. And therein lies the paradox, built into the very heart of my prophecy, designed to frustrate me so. The same oracular verse proclaiming my uncontested supremacy in this sphere then turns about and names the one I can never contest, the one I can never match blades with, the one who stands above me in reputation and yet lies beyond my reach by a span of countless generations. How am I to best a legend? How am I ever to prove myself against a ghost, and come into my own while the lore of one perceived as greater than I overshadows my every step, my every breath, my every waking moment?"

Alex considered his next words with meticulous care. "Latura says you have been grappling with Martin, in the spirit realm ... that the two of you are fighting. Is it true?"

"In dreams, perhaps - the dreams of eternal wakefulness. But the time of dreaming is over, and I will soon be able to claim my rightful place atop the echelon of history's greatest warriors." Urthblood paused, his gaze no less intense than before. "My destiny will only truly be fulfilled when I have bested Martin the Warrior in battle."

Alexander sat staring at Urthblood for long, stretched moments, eyes wide, before delivering his assessment.

"You're insane."

"Am I?" Abruptly, Urthblood rose from his chair. "If you truly think so, then ask your Abbess when you next see her why she is not herself these days. Ask her why she helped my Gawtrybe secure the ratmaid. She may even tell you the truth, although I doubt it. In the meantime, I must compose a special dispatch for her, thanking her for her role in these proceedings. Unless I miss my guess, she likely keeps secrets still - and those who keep secrets must take care that their secrecy not ensnare them." Turning to the distant stairwell he roared out, "Captains!"

Immediately his squirrel, mouse, hedgehog and weasel commanders hastened across the dining hall to him.

"Captain Matowick, you are hereby dismissed and excused from duty until further notice, so that you may spend time with your wife and son. Abellon, please see that Alexander is placed in suitable lodgings, or else assist him with his travel preparations, if it be his will to depart at once. Mattoon, please escort the rat upstairs down to the pier and put him aboard the _Redfoam_, and inform Captain Trangle he is free to sail at his leisure; there will be no more rats to deliver until the next batch arrives later this season, and those can wait for the next galleon or frigate."

Urthblood's gaze strayed to Alex once more. "That talkative rat, unlike his cherished prophetess, has proven most valuable to me this day. If he is lucky, perhaps he will find himself seated alongside her aboard the _Redfoam_, since that is likely to be their home for the next many days."


	27. Chapter 99

**CHAPTER NINETY-NINE**

The Searat King's arrival on Talaga mirrored that of his Queen's earlier that season, the _Darktide_ pulling into the harbor and tying up to the dock while an honor guard of crew from the _Darksky_ and the _Deeprunner_ stood in neat ranks upon the planks to officially welcome their lord to this idyllic haven within his harsh realm. And if the _Darktide_ was not accompanied by a companion warship as Regelline's had been, Tratton hardly seemed nonplussed at having a pair of fleetrunners as his only escort.

The bay was calm and gentle, just as it almost always was within this sheltered cove, and the sky clear and blue, decorated by just the faintest wispy shreds of cottony white. Arriving on a more traditional vessel than when Regelline had made her earlier homecoming aboard the _Deeprunner_ allowed Tratton to stand abovedecks as the _Darktide_ sailed into view of the agricultural isle and hove into the bay, enjoying the splendid views of sparkling white sands and the terraced waterfront settlement of Talaga Village, and sparing himself the awkward indignity of scaling a steel ladder up into the sun in order to disembark in front of his welcomers and retinue. Perhaps a dreadnought would have been even more befitting, but the modest harbor here could never accommodate any craft so large, and even this far out from the mainland - and even with the Accord in place - Tratton didn't entirely trust Urthblood not to target the remaining master ships of the Fleet.

The _Darktide_ nosed up directly behind the _Darksky_, whose own crew crowded the railings in full dress regalia, standing stiffly at attention under the hot sun with paws to brows in salute. Across the pier, the _Deeprunner_ cut a much lower and more compact profile, her relatively tiny topdeck deserted. Captains Voccola and Kirkirt joined their honor guard on the dock, each stationed at the end of their respective gangplanks with a few of their senior officers. Even more uniformed rats waited ceremonially at the landward end of the wharf, where no doubt the Governor and his wife and their coterie of attendant lackeys hovered to greet the Searat King once he set foot on the dry white sands of Talaga.

"Seems they are sparing no indignity in dignity," Tratton mused to Talarek, the ranking lieutenant of the Terramort Guard whom Malvarkis had personally assigned to stand in for him on this voyage as their liege's chief bodyguard. "And I notice one dignitary calls attention to herself through her absence. So much for royal devotion."

"With all due respect, Majesty, an' giving the Queen the benfit of th' doubt, she is with child, and perhaps not feeling up to turning out for such a welcoming."

"Well played, Talarek - obsequious to me and properly deferential to the Queen at the same time. Malvarkis has trained you well. But my dear regal better half should be well past her days of morning sickness by now, and not yet so heavy in the belly that she'd have trouble getting anywhere she truly wanted to be. I'm astute enough to recognize a snub for what it is - and honestly, I expected nothing less from her. If she started to act courteously toward me, I might truly start to worry."

In truth, Tratton's flippant attitude did hide a modicum of concern, if only a small one. So much rode on the successful delivery of the royal heir, and he doubted not for a moment that, should Regelline take a turn for the worse or suffer drastic complications at any point in her pregnancy, that news might very easily not reach him in a timely manner.

Those who delivered evil tidings to the Searat King often did not live to regret it.

Tratton drew in a deep breath redolent of the warm and fertile isle, then blew it out again through relaxed teeth. "Let us go dispense with this ceremonial claptrap and get it over with, so that we can focus on what I came here for."

"Yes, Yer Highness."

The rat King led the way down the _Darktide_'s gangplank to be greeted by sharp salutes from Kirkirt and Voccola; Tratton returned the gesture perfunctorily and without a word exchanged between them - most likely a relief to all parties involved, since any verbal interaction with the sea lord at all risked examination, incrimination or condemnation for any misstep or shortcoming, real or perceived. The two ships' captains were perfectly happy to draw only a nod of acknowledgment from their master, for in this case no news was surely good news, and if Tratton had nothing to say to them, then they could assume he'd found no fault to voice. For his own part, Tratton neither preferred nor expected any verbal engagement; any words they'd felt forced to produce for the occasion would surely have consisted of empty praise, platitudes and banal formalities, and this spared him from having to play nice or cut them down with sarcasm.

Besides, as mere nautical captains on the scene, it was not their place to formally welcome him to Talaga, being visitors themselves. That fell to governor Martinoy and his wife Centrella, who would no doubt momentarily shower him with empty banality enough to make up for the silent captains and sailors Tratton now passed on his way along the dock.

Sure enough, he was greeted with a bow and a curtsey, just as Regelline had earlier that season. "Welcome, Excellency Most High!" Martinoy gushed as he straightened from his perpendicular genuflection. "We honorably receive you with the full hospitality of Talaga. My island, and everything and everybeast on it, is at your complete disposal. Name your want, and every request will be fulfilled, every command obeyed!"

"Yes, nice." Clearly Tratton expected nothing less, and viewed the need to state such obvious facts as frivolous overkill. Nevertheless, he held any number of tempting, acerbic rejoinders back on his tongue, playing along for the sake of protocol. "Thank you, Governor. The Queen tells me you have been most accommodating to her needs, so I will expect the same in kind." Then, unable to resist, he added, "I will not even cast you out of your own home, since Her Majesty has already done so. Tell me, which of those manses up on the ridge overlooking the bay is - or, should I say, was - yours?"

"Um, the pink one, Sire - just left of the lookout tower."

"Oh, marvelous. The Queen must love that color." Shifting his attention to the burly swordsrat standing alongside the Governor, Tratton said, "And speaking of the Queen, I see her guard is here, even if she is not. Hullo, Trushar."

The bodyguard nodded formally. "Majesty."

"Surprised I am to find you not at your Mistress's side. I might almost suspect you of dereliction of duty, were it not for the fact that you'd not be here unless she ordered it herself."

"She did, Majesty. She preferred not to exert herself by coming all th' way down here, but did not wish to slight you either, and felt my standing as her head guard made me worthy to represent her in her absence. Her pawmaid Harmata remains at her side to see to her needs, and that one knows how to handle a blade fairly well herself."

"Nearly as well as Regelline, I understand. I suppose the Queen will be safe enough, then."

"Indeed she will, Sire!" Martinoy quickly put in. "She has her own palace guards from Terramort as well, and I've assigned some of my house guards and servants to remain with her too. No rat in the Empire is better tended than she!"

"That is good to hear, Governor. And for the short duration I expect to be here among you, I anticipate being treated equally well, since I will be sharing the Queen's accommodations, if not her actual chambers. So tell me, does all go well with her health?"

"Oh, yes!" Martinoy practically fell over himself to affirm. "Our very best midwife Demetria has been assigned to her and her exclusively, until the babe arrives and for as long thereafter as the Queen deigns to retain her services. I am assured - and can hence assure YOU, Your Highness - there've been no complications, an' her term proceeds according to the best we could hope for."

"Then let us be inside, where I can see to my own comforts." As the reception party joined Tratton and Talarek in leaving the dock and trudging up to the stone-paved concourse, the rat sovereign reflected on the risk he took in entering Talaga Village with just one of his Palace Guard. Martinoy was not the sort to seek the throne for himself, but that didn't mean he might not see this island as his own personal fiefdom, instilling in his personal guard a greater sense of loyalty to him than to the Empire - or to his King. To the north of the main residential district, along the shore there with a separate harbor and pier of its own, stood Fort Ballaster, its towers just visible above the hills from here, and that stronghold was staffed by fighters Uroza made sure remained steadfast in their devotion to Tratton. But Martinoy, as a perk of his governorship, kept his own guards, and while Uroza's spies undoubtedly kept tabs on them as well, there could never be any guarantees where such fulcrums of power were concerned.

And, compared to the risks he was about to undertake, mingling with one of his own governors rated very low on the threat scale.

The deck planks ended in the gentle dunes above the high tide line, leaving a wide stretch of the fine white sand to cross before reaching the paverstones of the lower avenue bending around the flanks of the sheltered harbor like a crescent thoroughfare. Tratton gave a minor scowl as his footpaws sank into the yielding strata with each step. "You really should have the planking extended up to street level, Governor. Or else pave a stone path down to the head of the dock."

"But, Sire," Martinoy explained, "Talaga is known for its recreation as much as for the crops we yield for the Empire, and the high standards of living we provide for officers and their families. Our beaches here are especially renowned for their pristine beauty, and most residents and visitors relish the opportunity to stroll through them with unshod paws, savoring the sand between their toes or wading in the shallows ... "

Tratton shot the Governor a sharp glance. "Do I _look_ like I'm here to enjoy the sand between my toes?"

"Uh, no, um ... "

"I prefer hard surfaces underpaw," Tratton went on. "The chambers and passages of Terramort, or the solid decks of a sailing ship. Shifting foundations can be as treacherous as shifting loyalties, and I'd just as soon avoid both."

"Meanin' no disrespect, Highness, but most rats might beg t' differ. They'd say hard floors and decks and ground are all well and good for drilling and duty, but when they're on their own time - when they're collecting their due reward for dedicated service to you and the Empire - well, then they're of a mind to put their cares and troubles aside, and be pampered a bit with some easy living. That's what Talaga's all about, Sire - and if it's your desire to enjoy for yourself a little of the rest and relaxation that's our specialty, any pleasure we can provide is yours for the asking."

"I know well what Talaga is here for, Governor. I'm the one who set it up as a resort and officers' families haven in the first place, remember?"

"Ah, er, that's true, Majesty. But we see you here so seldom, refreshing your memory in light of all that must be on your busy mind is only proper royal courtesy, wouldn't you agree?"

"Well said, Governor. But as you know, my 'busy mind' is elsewise occupied by other matters on this visit, and any recreation I enjoy here will have to wait until my official business is concluded."

Martinoy grimaced, and Centrella seemed equally put off by this focus on strategies and unsavory negotiations. "Yes, Spymaster Uroza's representatives have been quite busy here this season, making their ... overtures. A few have, unfortunately, lost their lives in the course of these, ah, talks."

"I am well aware, Governor."

"Savages!" Centrella spat, not caring if her outburst rankled either her husband or Tratton himself. "Feathered barbarians! They can have the western wastes of Talaga all to themselves, just as they always have. To slay Your Highness's agents so thoughtlessly ... "

"Forgive my wife if she speaks out of turn, Sire," Martinoy mildly implored, "but her points are valid. You have never had to share an island with such creatures, and at times it can be unbearable. We thin their ranks when we must, but they don't even make that good eating. Of course we've stopped that in light of the current diplomacy, but I fear it's only made them bolder and more unruly. You're, um, not planning on meeting with them directly, are you, Sire?"

"There wouldn't have been much point to me voyaging all the way here if I wasn't, Governor."

Martinoy seemed ready to voice his own misgivings over the obvious folly of such a course, but moderated his tone at the last moment. "But, do you really imagine them to be any creatures who'd make reliable allies, or who'd parley in good faith? What could we even offer them to win them over to our side?"

"What did Urthblood offer his gulls?"

Tratton well knew the answer to this rhetorical question, having long ago deduced it himself and also having received confirmation from Ambassador Erzath - one of the few bits of solid intelligence his representative at Salamandastron had been able to supply - and if Martinoy knew it too, Tratton had ready assurances prepared to ease the Governor's qualms. There was a good chance, however, that Martinoy remained ignorant on this score, because the answer was too terrible for any member of their species to seriously contemplate or dwell upon for very long.

Quite simply, the Badger Lord had brought the seagulls into his fold by promising two things: To stop slaying gulls himself ... and the chance to kill as many searats as they wished. And Tratton fully intended to promise the exact same thing to his hoped-for allies from the craggy, surf-pounded, storm-scoured shores of western Talaga.

He just hoped, should they accept, that they proved not particularly adept at telling searats from woodlander rats - because these days Tratton had plenty of the latter to spare, thanks to the Accord.

00000000000

Palter felt like he had stepped into a nightmare that was growing worse with each passing moment.

The worst - or so he'd thought - had been the grinning badger. That demonic grin had haunted his terror-fainted slumbers until his reawakening, and even afterwards, and immense relief flooded through Palter when his red-armored captor failed to make any further appearances between then and the rat's removal from Salamandastron under armed escort. As much as Palter dreaded what lay in store for him aboard the _Redfoam_, at least it would get him away from Urthblood.

When the weasels came to conduct him from his interrogation cell, they didn't even bother binding his paws. And why would they? He was the scrawniest, feeblest rat they'd ever seen, or at least that they'd seen so far that season - although Palter caught himself at this thought, for they'd surely seen Lattie too, and as unimposing as he might be, Lattie was even moreso, or just about. In any case, no true soldierbeast would look upon Palter and see any kind of threat at all ... and thus was he marched down through the mountain passages, out under the wide coastal sky into the fresh onshore breezes, along the stone jetty wharf and right up to the boarding gangplank of the _Redfoam_ entirely unrestrained.

The searats aboard the docked galleon regarded Palter with derogatory snerks, snide asides and snouts wrinkled in distaste that such a pathetic specimen had delayed their departure while they awaited his delivery into their custody. But tempted as some might have been to slay him on sight or use him for immediate target practice, Captain Trangle's orders were clear, and so Palter was passed from Urthblood's weasels to the searat crew, a contingent of whom prodded him up the gangway, onto the top deck and then down the companionway to the lower level which was to be his new home - and perhaps the last he would ever know.

Had Palter not been so fearfully despondent and anxious as to his fate - and Lattie's too - he might actually have been able to enjoy the novelty of his first-ever experience aboard an oceangoing vessel. The wide decks a world of their own, riddled with hatchways and stairs and cabins and compartments, and above it all the mighty main masts and rippling, resplendent tricolor sails and the intricate network of ropes connecting canvas to jibs and booms and pulleys and winches - it all spoke of an existence wholly foreign to the woodland rat.

But then that surface rat-wrought wonderland disappeared behind him as he was bustled down one set of stairs and then another, into the belly of the wooden beast and the bowels of the searat warship. With each step he felt himself further and further removed from the fresh air and sunshine of the outside world, felt his old life of freedom receding behind him as these imprisoning bulkheads closed around him with an almost suffocating sense of confinement ... and as he smelled the strengthening stench of chained misery. By the time he reached the short flight of steps leading down to the rowing galley floor, he almost thought he might pass out from the repugnant odor of fresh filth and unwashed bodies mingled with the stale essence of past woodlander slaves now departed. And Palter had never been the cleanliest of beasts himself, so for it to affront him so ...

He was pushed and prodded along the central aisle, forlorn faces to either side of him gazing up with hapless dejection and smoldering resentment and watery-eyed fear from their seats on the rowing benches, the long oar handles laying across their laps like stern arms of discipline. In addition to hale and hearty adult rats Palter also saw frail oldsters and youngrats too, some barely able to see over their oar handles. All the recent arrivals sat tied to their stations by heavy knotted ropes, which rather surprised Palter; he'd always heard of rowing slaves being chained to their oars by irons, but only a small portion of those here were, and those all toward the fore of the galley. But these softer, more yielding restraints did nothing to cheer the captives bound by them, their every expression one of anxiety or anger or confusion. Every expression save one ...

A wide, wildly inappropriate smile broke out on Latura's face as she spotted Palter coming down the aisle toward her. She tried to raise her paw to wave, found the rope afforded her no slack to do so, and so settled for cheerily calling out, "Hey, uh ... you!"

The ghost of a smile played upon Palter's own lips, the male villager unsure whether to be heartened or dejected, since Latura clearly possessed not a clue as to his name. But at least she had recognized him, and for Lattie that constituted victory enough.

Unfortunately, other rats already occupied the bench to either side of Latura, so Palter's handlers continued to bustle him back to the very last row - and here the scrawny woodlander found his breath leaving him, his stiffened body refusing to inhale again.

One of his escorts guffawed. "Yah, that's how ev'ryrat reacts seein' our Crackmaster fer th' first time!"

Before Palter, lurking in the shadowed recesses of the aft rowing galley, loomed the largest rat he had ever seen. Its head almost scraped the ceiling, and its chest and shoulders were easily twice the width of Palter's own meagre proportions, and then some. Muscles bulged through the crisscrossing torso straps that seemed to be its only garments, and the legs stood planted upon the festering deck like twin pedestals of unforgiving sinew. Across the eyes this terror sported a thin black mask lending the wicked, blocky features an almost ferrety aspect - not enough to properly hide the identity, but just enough to cast the wearer in a more sinister light. From the meaty right paw dangled a coiled lash, the whip loose in the grasp as if being weighed for use at any instant ...

And then, without warning or provocation, that whip snapped out, its tip cracking viciously right upon Palter's nose. He staggered back in pained alarm with a strangled cry, sure that a terrible welt must have been raised there, or that the delicate nasal skin had broken to pour blood down into his mouth and chin fur. But as he raised a paw to check, one of his minders roughly yanked it back down again. "Aw, don'tcher go an' worry yerself, y' liddle wastrel - that's how Cracky greets all 'is new rowers! Let's 'em know up front what they're in fer if they don't pull their weight. Ain't that right, Cracky?"

The hulking slavemaster, still grinning maliciously from his treatment of Palter, managed to glare at his offending crewmate at the same time. "Call me that agin, I'll break yer skull."

Introductions thus made, the two searats tied Palter to his oar in the last row, which he was apparently to share with only one other: a female rat of middle seasons who nevertheless looked more suited to the hard labors ahead than Palter was. "Well, that's th' last of 'em," one of the searats said. "Once we're well out t' sea, we'll decide which ones we'll be keepin', an' which we'll be lettin' loose ... "

Several of the nearby prisoners glanced up at this offpaw comment, the first faint flicker of hope they'd dared allow themselves in many days shining in their eyes. "Let loose?" a few whispered and murmured under their breath ... but their cause for optimism proved short-lived.

The second searat cast a dour gaze over the twoscore or so roped slaves. "By th' look o' this lot, we might be lucky if half of 'em make th' cut. Either way, I'll be gettin' the chains ready - for those who'll be stayin', an' fer those who'll be goin'!"

The sniggering pair exited up the front galley steps, leaving all the new captives to their resident taskmaster, who paced up and down the aisle with glowering menace, wordlessly grimacing at what he'd been given to work with.

When the _Redfoam_ untied and pulled away from the jetty a short time later, catching the high tide to ease her passage out of the coastal shallows, the prisoners found scant consolation in the fact that their new waterborne prison got underway with sails alone. They all knew their real nightmare would come soon enough, even if they were for the moment spared the crack of the lash and backbreaking strain as the searat galleon bore them away to the heart of Tratton's Empire.

00000000000

Up on the wheeldeck of the _Redfoam_, Captain Trangle stood with his first mate Laverty, gazing not out to the open main beckoning them to where they truly wanted to be, but back toward shore, toward Salamandastron, and toward the _Goodwill,_ still moored at the mountainside fortress's pier. They directed their attention that way not through suspicion that some treachery of Urthblood's might have the Badger Lord's forces lash out at them before they could ply safely beyond his reach - although this was a fear which still clawed at the heart of every searat captain who dared bring his vessel so close to their former enemy's lair, even with the Accord in place - but as a result of their King's latest edict, issued just earlier that season to all ships of the Royal Fleet.

"Y' reckern she's th' one, Cap'n sir?"

Trangle gazed down at the Imperial dispatch clutched in his paw. "Seems t' fit the profile we were told t' keep an eye out for. Level, barge-like top deck on a high-ridin' hull, no excess rigging, flat hatchways - aye, she's a prime candidate, a'right. Pity there wasn't a fleetrunner in port when we were; we coulda told 'em to spread word, get another galleon or frigate or even a dreadnought ready to intercept her."

An ambitious fire lit Laverty's eyes. "Reckon we could take 'er ourselves? T'would be great honor 'n' prestige in baggin' such a prize ... mebbe promotions ... "

Trangle shook his head. "Much as I might savor grabbin' that glory fer m'self, Lavs, it'd look too suspicious if we tarried just offshore o' Salam'dastron after departing with our slave load, sailin' in circles while we waited fer that trader mouse t' leave too. 'Member, Urthblood's gulls can range far out t' sea, an' they'll report back to that badger if we linger anywhere within a day's sail o' here. 'Sides which, we can't guess how much longer that vessel's gonna remain right where she is. Only just arrived yesterday - could be she'll not be budgin' fer many days yet. An' we've got our own patrol lanes t' cover, an' our own tribute t' collect."

"There's tribute, sir, an' then there's tribute. Deliverin' this could be worth twenty confiscated cargo lots."

"This's gotta be handled careful, Lavs, real careful. There's not only the Accord t' consider in general, but that mouse is a guest of Urthblood's now in 'is own home. Gotta be quick, clean, an' quiet - quiet most of all, so no land beast ever finds out. An' that means leavin' it to Uroza's spyrats. We'll just keep a sharp lookout fer the first fleetrunner that comes our way, hail 'em to us an' get word out that we found a promisin' vessel, an' hope it can all be coordinated 'fore she gets away."

The searat captain flashed a dangerous grin. "We might not get t' snare th' grand prize itself, but I'm bettin' there'll be perks aplenty t' bein' the first cap'n an' crew t' report we've found 'xactly the ship King Tratton's maskfaced tinkerer's been lookin' for!"


	28. Chapter 100

**CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED**

It seemed that morning as if everything at Redwall was happening at once.

The arrival of Tolar's foxes - and Trelayne too - had not only interrupted the Long Patrol's promotion festivities and injected a new dynamic into Abbey affairs, but would also lead to various unforeseen interplays between parties both obvious and unexpected and, in at least one case, largely unsuspected. While the sacks full of Realms sat out on the grounds under the watchful eyes of fox and weasel - and those foxes and weasels in turn sat under the equally watchful eyes of hares and squirrels and shrews, not to mention Harth's rats - the Abbey mostly slumbered through the night in a wary calmness, relieved that at least Tolar's brigade appeared not to harbor the same single-minded attitude toward Redwall as the Gawtrybe. But as morning broke, and creatures of every species rose to begin their day and take their breakfasts and engage in all manner of conversation, many intriguing collisions played out as perhaps only at Redwall they could ...

00000000000

Only one fox took its breakfast indoors in Great Hall, Tolar preferring to receive his morning meal out on the spring lawns with his brigade and their weasel carriers. And now that solitary vulpine drew looks from many seated around him, not least from the marten whose exclamation had caused so many heads to turn their way.

"Not coming with me?! What do you mean?"

Kyslith looked somewhat sheepish at Trelayne's affronted interrogation, abashed as only somebeast revealing an overdue secret could be. "I mean I'm staying at Foxguard, sir. Mona and I have discussed this at great length, and we agree Foxguard will benefit from having me on paw to see to its glassmaking needs. It is a full military garrison, after all, with nearly as much going on these days as there is at Salamandastron. It truly deserves to have a blower of its own on permanent staff. And I could serve the requirements not only of Foxguard, but Gawdrey as well - and even Redwall. You can't very well be expected to come running back to Mossflower from the coast every time anybeast around here needs glass crafted, can you? This way, both regions can have their needs in this area fulfilled expeditiously, without long travel delays. It only makes sense, sir."

"You've discussed this ... with Mona? Not Tolar?"

"Sword Tolar has been quite busy with other things. We felt this could be worked out without overburdening him unnecessarily. I believe Mona many have brought the subject up to him, and he was content to leave the details to her."

"But ... but, you're my apprentice! What am I to do without you?"

"Tolomeo is your apprentice too. He can provide you with all the help you'll need once you get back to Salamandastron, especially nowadays with peace holding sway over the coastlands. I feel it's time for me to move ahead on my own, and to be more than just an apprentice."

"Well. Well. This is most unexpected. Most unexpected indeed. But, does Lord Urthblood even know?"

"My pledge of apprenticeship was with you, Master Trelayne, not with Lord Urthblood. I will of course continue to offer my services to him, if he will have me - but it will have to be at Foxguard, not Salamandastron."

Geoff, seated at the head of the main table in Vanessa's absence and sensing the sudden tension between marten and fox over Kyslith's unanticipated announcement, waded in at this point. "Well, I think it's an excellent idea. I appreciate that it must sting to lose so fine an assistant, my good Trelayne, but I must speak honestly and state that your loss will be Mossflower's gain. If Kyslith on his own proves even half as talented as you, he will still be able to create masterworks ... and if he is only one-tenth as talented as you, he will still know more of the glassblowing arts than any Redwaller, and be able to provide us with wares finer than almost any currently gracing our shelves and cupboards. Although, on the subject of masterworks, I do hope this development hasn't soured you on crafting me that replacement figurine you'd indicated you would make of me ... "

"Well, I was counting on Kyslith's help for that," Trelayne said rather frostily. "But if he no longer wishes to serve as my third and fourth paws ... "

The fox displayed genuine hurt at this recrimination. "Nay, Master! A promise is a promise, and one made to Redwall's Abbot ... er, former Abbot ... uh ... "

Geoff waved a paw. "It's all right. I was serving as Abbot when Trelayne first promised me a replacement, so for the purposes of this conversation, that title's as fine as any other!"

"Well then," Kyslith went on, "a promise made to Redwall's Abbot must be honored above all! I will assist you, Trelayne. Of course I will, and consider it my honor to do so! Just because we will be parting ways when we leave here, that doesn't mean we cannot pool our talents one last time to produce the splendid miniature our host deserves!"

Trelayne forced a conciliatory smile, a trace of wistfulness to it. "I'm sorry, I was just being churlish, and temperamental. One does not expect to rise and greet the new day to be met with such news as this, and it will pain me indeed to lose so fine an apprentice as you. I spoke through selfishness; please forgive me, both of you. I wish you only success in your new pursuits, Kyslith - and you will be among your fellow foxes, so perhaps you have found your true place after all. But yes, let us engage in one last collaboration here to fulfill our obligation to the good folk who have treated us so well, and part as both friends and mutually respected colleagues. Let us undertake this endeavor today, in fact! And let it be our finest work Redwall has seen yet!"

Geoff beamed as the two longtime associates warmly shook paws in agreement and rapprochement. "See? As has so often been said, things always do seem to work out for the best at Redwall!"

00000000000

Across the Hall, Colonel Clewiston settled himself onto a bench alongside Grayfoot and his family, eliciting a curious look from the two males and an indifferent gaze of bare acknowledgment from Judelka. While interaction between the Long Patrol and the ferrets was not unheard of, due mainly to Percy's friendship with the leverets, it was unusual for the commander of those fighting hares to seek out Grayfoot in any such social setting.

"Mornin', Captain. How goes?"

"Retired Cap'n, Colonel."

"O posh. Once a captain, always a captain, wot? Accorded honor afforded th' bally rank 'n' service, don'tcha know. So, how's this gonna work?"

"Um ... how's what gonna work?"

"This business with these ugly little coins your brushtailed friends've lugged here from their tower. I saw Tolar take you aside after yesterday's tea, an' he seemed to be jawin' at you a good long while ... an' from wot I could see, you hardly seemed overjoyed by wot he was layin' upon you. Wot's he got you in for ... or aren't you allowed to say?"

"Oh, that. Naught secret 'bout any o' that. Quite th' contrary, since Sword Tolar's lookin' t' get 'em distributed throughout Mossflower as fast an' as wide as 'ee can, Urthblood's orders ... "

"An' how's that gonna happen? Shower ev'rybeast who passes by with a pawful of that ill-conceived coinage?"

"Not too far off, Colonel. I'm t' keep a stockpile of Realms on paw fer th' remainder o' this season, an' inta summer if need be. Ev'ry time somebeast drops in fer food 'n' drink, or fer a room, they'll get Realms along with their orders an' hospitality. If they refuse th' Realms, no food or service."

Clewiston's eyebrows went up. "Just gonna give 'em away, like that? Thought they were supposed to be valuable? Cap'n Redfur keeps carryin' on like they're th' treasure of a thousand seasons ..."

"They'll only be valuable if beasts start seein' 'em that way - which is why, with each coin or clutch given out will come notice that, come middle of summer, we'll not be givin' out any more Realms, an' we'll no longer take barter or trinkets fer our food 'n' drink 'n' rooms. That point on, anybeasts who want t' fill their bellies or slake their thirsts or rest their heads on a pillow will hafta pay fer th' pleasure - an' pay in Realms only. No Realms, no service."

"Wot about travellers from afar who weren't around for the distributin', who've never heard of the blasted things? Will you deny 'em, just 'cos they were out of th' bally loop?"

"Course not. That'd be cruel. They'd hafta work fer their Realms."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I'd find summat fer them t' do 'round my tavern - or mebbe send 'em Foxguard's way, since there's allers work t' be done there - an' once they've got their pay in Realms clinkin' in their pockets from their labors, they can come back an' buy whatever they want. Course, if I happen t' have spare Realms in my counter box an' they've got sumpthin' worth sellin', I might just buy it from 'em - an' they can pay me outta that."

"Sounds ... complicated, chap. Think I'll stick with simple barter 'n' trade. Always been good 'nuff for us here at Redwall, an' the sea traders out along th' coast - or Lord Sodexo an' his honey too. Can't see him ever askin' Realms for his honey."

"Barter 'n' trade's all well an' good, Colonel - but Urthblood can't control that as easy, can he?" Clewiston couldn't miss the undercurrent of sarcasm in the ferret captain's tone.

"Hrm. An' wot about any rats who come your way, hm? Wot're your orders regardin' 'em?"

"Orders? Ain't got any, leastways not yet. Retired from Urthblood's service, 'member? Altho', I get so many Gawtrybe passin' thru my doors these days - some even stayin' overnight at times - that any rat fool 'nuff t' stick its snout inta my tavern'd find itself trussed up an' shipped off to the coastlands 'fore it knew what hit it ... or else lyin' dead with Gawtrybe shafts decoratin' its carcass. 'Spect that might change once Gawdrey's finished an' those treewhompers don't need my saloon as much, but fer now, t'ain't no place any rat'd wanna be."

"Ho, yes, that'll be a right liftin' off your shoulders, havin' them bowtwangers off your paws. Just where is that squirrel fortress set t' be, anyway?"

If Clewiston had hoped to trick Grayfoot into revealing Gawdrey's secret location by slipping that seemingly-innocent inquiry into their discourse so casually and conversationally, he was bound to be frustrated. "Sorry, Colonel, but they've not told me any more about that than they've told you, I reckern. Not sure they've even told Tolar; could be the only creatures who know that squirrel fortress's location are th' Gawtrybe themselves, plus the birds who scouted out th' spot an' guided 'em to it."

"An' His Bloodiness 'imself," Clewiston added.

"Yeah, him too, I s'pose."

Clewiston silently nibbled for a few moments at the scone he'd brought with him while Grayfoot helped Judelka spoon some custard into Percy's mouth; the ferretchild was easily old enough to feed himself, but always seemed to enjoy a little extra parental attention when he could get it.

"So," the hare said, "take it you're less than charmed 'bout this whole Realms business that's been forced on you ... "

Grayfoot shrugged. "No real skin off my snout, not really. I'm as happy as not t' give 'em out, an' collect 'em when time comes due fer that too, tho' won't be any picnic denyin' service to those who can't pay. It'll be int'restin' seein' how that all works out."

"Hmm. An' wot about this whole campaign 'gainst the rats? Content t' go along with that too?"

"Don't see how that directly affects me very much, Colonel. Very few o' my customers were ever rats, tho' I certainly didn't turn 'em away if they needed food or drink, or a bed fer th' night."

"Oh? Thought you might've felt more strongly 'bout it than that. I've seen you 'n' Truax chattin' up a bally storm at times, on several occasions since you an' your family arrived with Lord Sodexo and the riverfolk. The two of you look pretty chummy to me."

"Well, Tru an' me're both former cap'ns. Go way back, we do, up in th' North. He was allers one o' Urthblood's more popular officers - best of th' rat captains, better'n either of th' ones who came down t' fight at Salam'dastron. Got along with nearabouts ev'rybeast, not like most rats. An' not just us ferrets 'n' weasels 'n' stoats, an' foxes too, but even woodlanders an' goodbeasts too."

"Yeah - we heard how Captain Saybrook helped him an' his kin escape the Purge up there so they could escape to Redwall. Sadly, don't think any more of those skintails'll make it through the blinkin' blockade your Gawtrybe friends've thrown up around this Abbey."

Grayfoot regarded Clewiston with surprise over this statement. "I'da thought you'd be happy 'bout that, Colonel, no more rats gettin' through to Redwall. You an' yer hares've made no secret what a nuisance you consider 'em, an' ye're hardly the only Abbeybeasts I've heard worry 'bout how they're strainin' yer resources. Woulda assumed you'd be happy if'n you could be rid of the lot of 'em."

"Beasts in trouble need help, wot?"

"Aye, reckon so. At least Redwall's in a position t' give it."

Clewiston paused a beat. "Wot'd _you_ do if any rats came to you seekin' help to elude this Purge?"

Grayfoot didn't seem as caught off guard by this question as the Colonel had expected. "That is a quandary, ain't it? Not a soldier anymore m'self, so I couldn't very well take 'em inta custody or arrest 'em ... tho', I s'pose I _could_ lock 'em in an upstairs guest room, or down in th' cellar, 'til th' next Gawtrybe patrol comes along. Might disrupt th' runnin' of my establishment more'n I might like, mind. What I could do, that I'm sure th' Gawtrybe couldn't fault me for, would be t' make careful note of which way they headed once they left my tavern, an' report it to th' proper authorities in due time. That might be my full extent of participation in any o' this - don't want trouble from either side, y' know. Got Judy 'n' Percy t' think about."

"O' course, chappie, o' course. But y' say you're not under any specific orders on any of this t'all, are you?"

"That's what bein' retired from service means, Colonel."

"Ah, yes. Retired family life, with the wife 'n' toddler 'n' all that." Clewiston favored Percy and Judelka with a long look. "Then again, rats've got family 'n' kin too. Little tykes an' loved ones, significant others an' oldsters, siblings, cousins ... do you ever think you _would_ help out any who came your way asking for it?"

Now Grayfoot finally did show the surprise he'd failed to exhibit earlier. "Help 'em how? Send 'em t' Redwall? They'd never get through, not th' way the Gawtrybe's guardin' all yer approaches here. Hide 'em in my tavern? That'd work out real good next time some Gawtrybe dropped by. Send 'em south? That might buy 'em some time, but the Purge'd overtake 'em sooner or later. Wouldn't do 'em any good in th' long run, an' I'd be stickin' my neck out lots farther than I'd be comfortable with."

"There are other directions besides just north an' south."

"What, east? Inta th' heart o' Mossflower, where th' Gawtrybe 're conductin' their most extensive sweeps? West, inta the Plains, where Cap'n Choock's shrews an' Urthblood's gulls're watchin' day an' night? From where I sit, east 'n' west's as bad as north 'n' south."

"Mebbe not quite as bad as all that. The Western Plains are a big place, as I can jolly well attest from traipsin' across 'em any number of times, includin' just recently when I was out chasin' after Lattie. Lotsa nooks 'n' crannies where a beast could hide itself if it didn't wanna be found - an' no forests for the Gawtrybe to work from to their blinkin' advantage."

"Nay, there ain't - which means anybeast crossin' those wide spaces would be open an' exposed, nowhere t' hide. Even if they elude Choock's shrews, they'd be bound t' be spotted by th' gulls."

"Gulls can't see at night, chap."

Grayfoot straightened, realizing for the first time that Clewiston might not be speaking purely hypothetically. "No. No, they can't. But they ain't the only eyes in th' sky Urthblood's got."

"Last I heard, that brute didn't have any bats in his service. An' every bally time we see one of his owls, it always seems to be the same one, leading me to 'spect he hasn't got too many of them in his service either - tho', I reckon you'd know more 'bout the inner workings of his recruitment an' standing forces than I would, chum."

"Aye, 'tis true. Even up north, Urthblood only ever had a few of those nightbirds sworn to him, an' Saugus seems t' be the only one who's ever come south."

"Right ho, just a few owls - which jibes with how Truax was able t' make it here from the thick of the Purge in its first, Northlands phase. He knew t' travel only at night - told us as much when he first arrived - 'cos he knew Urthblood would be mostly blind then. It it worked for that sly old captain, who's to say it wouldn't do the same for some of Mossflower's rats?"

Grayfoot digested this. "Aye ... but Tru had someplace _to_ go - a destination he knew would be worth riskin' such a dangerous journey for. Sayin' Mossflower's rats might be able t' move around without bein' spotted is only th' half of it. Wherever they settled down, they'd still need food an' water. Where would they _go_?" The ferret studied Clewiston's face more closely. "You've already got some place in mind, don'tcher?"

"Mebbe I do, chap, mebbe I do. You think over what we talked about here, an' where you stand on things, an' wot you really think is the right an' decent stand to take in all this, an' I'll get back to you after you've had some time to mull things over." Clewiston rose from the bench, licking his paw clean of the crumbs from his now-finished scone. "If you feel like talkin' more, just seek me out - I'm always around Redwall somewhere or other, now that I'm not out chasin' after kidnapped ratmaids anymore!"


	29. Chapter 101

**CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ONE**

If Clewiston caught Grayfoot off guard at that morning's meal, both with his approach of the ferrets itself and what he had to say to them, then another encounter no less surprising took place out on the Abbey lawns at roughly the same time, with Harth and Grota deciding to join the swordfoxes for their open-air breakfast.

The rat commander insisted on sitting with Tolar and Mona, while others in the brigade who might normally seek such prestige for themselves looked on with barely-suppressed scowls of annoyance or blank expressions of confusion; certainly, no fox there had expected the very creatures at the heart of the diplomatic impasse between Urthblood and Redwall to join them. And the fact that Harth's motives were clearly disingenuous didn't help matters.

"So," the rat said to Mona between muffin nibbles, "you're these foxes' Seer?"

"I am a healer, not a Seer," the vixen primly corrected. "I've never made any pretense to the prophetic or clairvoyant."

"Hmm. Horde I came from had a nasty piece o' work called Joska, who was both those things, or so she claimed. Tho', in truth, I s'pect she was a total fraud as a Seer, as most are, an' she spent more time brewin' up poisons than remedies. Hemlock 'n' nightshade, hemlock 'n' nightshade - t'were almost like a mantra to her. Whenever some rankin' hordebeast got on Krayne's nerves too much or fell into disfavor - or showed too much ambition for his own good - he'd have Joska whip up another batch of hemlock 'n' nightshade, slip it inta their drink when they weren't lookin', an' problem solved!"

Mona sniffed at the mere intimation that Harth regarded her and Joska as being of a piece. "She sounds rather unimaginative, considering her ingredients. I know how to 'whip up' far more than just hemlock and nightshade, I assure you. Although most of what I concoct is for healing purposes, since that is my vocation, not poisoner. Your former associate sounds like exactly the kind of villain who's given us foxes such a bad reputation over the seasons, making it that much harder to win our way back into the good graces of honest woodlanders."

"Might help t' that end if you stopped associatin' with certain beasts yerselves - namely your fellow red-furred brushtails who shoot anything that moves. Puttin' Redwall under siege is hardly th' way to win favor in Mossflower, I'd say."

"We had nothing to do with that," Tolar curtly informed Harth. "We were not even notified of the operations against your species until it was nearly ready to begin in Mossflower, and to this day we've played no active role in it. If it were up to me, we never will, and Redwall would be free to do as it pleases. These orders come from a place much higher than any fox or squirrel, so feel free to take it up with Lord Urthblood directly."

"Can't do that, since I can't set foot outside this Abbey without bein' grabbed up an' force-marched away to th' coast. Tho', from what I hear, Redwall's squirrel chief might be doin' that for me right now. Wonder how that badger'll like gettin' told off to 'is superior, sanctimonious, stripy face - or whether our squirrel's still gonna have his head when he's done soundin' off."

"Lord Urthblood would never slay a Redwaller over mere verbal provocation," Mona said in defense of her master. "Relations may sadly be strained at the moment, but he has always considered Redwall an ally. And a necessary one at that. He'll not throw that away casually, or at all, if he can help it."

"Hrm. Abbess doesn't seem t' share yer rosy assessment, marm, since I've heard her voice concerns 'bout whether we'll ever see Alex back here again."

"The Abbess has not been in her right mind for three seasons, and still may not be. I'm still waiting for her to consent to have me examine her properly."

"That may be a long wait, from what I saw yesterday." Harth's gaze went between Tolar and Mona. "So, you two married, or what?"

"We're ... mates," Mona clarified.

"Are we?" Tolar bit off, not looking at her.

Mona lowered her voice to a hissing whisper. _"I told you, Kyslith meant nothing ... "_

"He doesn't seem to think it was nothing," Tolar shot back, making no effort to lower his own voice. "And you have advocated most forcefully to have him remain behind at Foxguard."

"As a glassmaker! You yourself agreed it would be wise keeping a beast with such skills on paw to provide for us in this area."

"Yes, I agreed. Before I knew of his ... outside activities. I wonder if you would be quite so enthusiastic about the arrangement if it were Trelayne staying behind to make our glass and Kyslith returning to Salamandastron."

"You can't expect Lord Urthblood to do without his master glass crafter. Trelayne belongs at Salamandastron, while Kyslith has shown himself most capable as well, and more than adequate to serve our needs."

"Whose needs would those be, exactly?"

"Lover's tiff?" Harth ventured, thoroughly relishing this unexpected display of tension between the two most important foxes at Foxguard.

"Shut up," Tolar and Mona said to Harth in unison, which only broadened the grin on the rat's face, with Grota joining in for good measure.

The foxes were spared from further sniping by the arrival of Lady Mina, strolling across the lawns toward them bearing her own bowl of porridge and tumbler of water - the enforced light diet of her convalescence. When she spotted Harth and Grota seated with the swordsbeasts, she frowned and seemed about to issue some derogatory comment or other, then apparently thought better of it and lowered herself gingerly to the ground, on the other side of Tolar from the rats. For their part, Harth and Grota returned her icy glare with looks of their own that were no less baleful, but they too observed enough tact to hold their tongues.

Tolar had half-risen to help Mina seat herself, but the Gawtrybe Lady waved him off. "I'm not a total invalid yet, Sword," she wryly remarked as she made herself comfortable. "I'm feeling stronger and more back to my old self every day, in fact. Although I do find myself still rising later in the mornings than is my custom - a habit I'll need to break myself of if I'm ever to get back into prime shooting shape."

"O' course," Harth scoffed, "so you can try assassinatin' more innocent rats 'round here. Maybe I'll be next on your list? How the Abbess hasn't kicked you outta Redwall by now, I still can't figger."

"The Abbess has better sense - and decency - than to expel a longtime resident lying grievously wounded up in her Infirmary," Mina shot back.

"Yah - an' the good sense not t' let you near another bow neither," Grota sneered. "Noterced she's keepin' yer deadly toys well away from you."

"Only while I fully finish healing." Mina's lightweight spring tunic couldn't entirely hide the slight bulge of the bandages still wrapped around her abdomen. "Just a temporary state of affairs."

"I'll put a word in with her t' make it more perm'nant," said Harth. "Havin' yer bow break like that may've been your luckiest stroke this season; otherwise you'd be lookin' fer a new home now."

"Yes, but there would be one less troublesome ratmaid plaguing the lands," Mina returned. "Fortunately, she's almost certainly reached Salamandastron by now, and no doubt Lord Urthblood has dealt with her as she was meant to be dealt with."

Harth and Grota stirred as if provoked to the brink of physical violence over this verbal provocation, but the former general thought better of it, restraining his cohort with an outstretched paw. "Naw, Grote, don't let 'er goad ya. She ain't worth it."

The remainder of the strained mealtime consisted mostly of routine pleasantries exchanged between Tolar and Mina, since the Gawtrybe Lady and the fox Sword had caught up on more important matters the previous evening, once Mina had been alerted to the Foxguard contingent's arrival.

"You're worried about Alexander, aren't you?" the fox chieftain asked at one point in the conversation.

"How can I not be? The supreme foolishness of it, racing off in the midst of all this to Salamandastron just to spew his ire at Lord Urthblood. What was he thinking? If I weren't still restricted from heavy exertion from my injury, I'd be tempted to set out after him."

"Do you think you still might? You seem to be recovering well, and nearly back to your old self."

Mina shook her head. "With my luck this season, I'd miss him while I was going over the mountains and he was coming back to Mossflower the long way around the range, or something like that. It might well prove wholly pointless."

"You could always send a message. The gulls, the mirror ... "

"And say what? Alex is going to tell Lord Urthblood whatever he went there to tell him. Probably has already, if he's not met with misfortune along the way. Lord Urthblood is surely mindful enough of the situation to allow Alex a considerable amount of slack; he'll let my husband yell at him up to a point, then remind him if he crosses the line of acceptability - and then have Alex escorted out of Salamandastron if he insists on stepping too far over that line. I'm not worried for Alex in _that_ sense - but when crossing such distances in such uncertain times as these, accidents and misunderstandings can happen."

"That is true. And what of overall relations between Redwall and Salamandastron? You were here to see this all unfold; what is your assessment of where things go from here?"

"There were deaths," Mina stated flatly. "On both sides. That will be a hard thing to get past. The situation may not be beyond salvaging yet - but it remains perilous indeed."

"Good thing then that I've kept my brigade out of any hostilities toward Redwall, and am sworn to engage in none against them. That may well position me to - "

"Sworn, Sword?" Mina cut him off sharply.

The fox seemed momentarily thrown by this interrogatory interruption. "Why, yes, of course. I have promised the Abbey leaders I will take part in no action against them."

"That may not have been your promise to make, Tolar. Need I remind you, you are sworn to one beast, and one beast only?"

Tolar digested this, along with his breakfast, for a fair number of moments. "And need I remind _you_, Lady, that it is our master's actions against Mossflower and Redwall which have largely created this crisis, and led to this dire state of affairs? Bad enough that he and his Gawtrybe threatened this Abbey with a full siege over their decision to offer sanctuary to these rat refugees - a decision anybeast could have predicted, given Redwall's history of providing safe haven to creatures in need - but imagine my surprise and shock upon arriving here yesterday only to learn of a kidnapping plot carried out against one of their most important asylum-seekers, followed by use of lethal force against the rescue party, resulting in the deaths of both Guosim and Long Patrol. If Lord Urthblood seeks to lay blame for the present regrettable circumstances, he can start by taking a long, hard look in a mirror - and not the one he uses to send messages, either."

Mina's attitude toward Tolar turned suddenly frostier. "I was given to understand you and Captain Custis had worked out your differences, and you were fully on board with the current campaign. Was I mistaken in this, Sword?"

"Custis and I have been getting along just fine together. He has not asked me to help him start rounding up rats, I have not received orders from Salamandastron to do so, and I have not volunteered myself or any of my foxes for such purposes. Custis has his mission to carry out, and he and I both know my place in that mission. When I left Foxguard to deliver the Realms to Redwall, I was not aware of any of what had happened regarding Captain Matowick's activities here, or the strife out on the Plains, and it's possible Custis wasn't either - although his refusal to share with me what his squirrels surely must have seen from the watchtower does fill me with disquiet. This is not about the Purge, Lady. This is about Lord Urthblood and Redwall. The Abbeybeasts do not see his recent actions as those of a friend, or ally, or indeed a trustworthy creature in any sense of the word. That will be a very hard hurdle to overcome, if it can be overcome at all. My primary concern is preserving relations, if at all possible. Move against Redwall? Of course I will do no such thing. I have always enjoyed a warm welcome here, as recently as this season's Nameday celebrations, and I hope the cold, suspicious reception I met with during this present visit will prove a one-time event not to be repeated. Do _you_ know of any reason why I might be ordered or forced to move against this Abbey, Lady?"

Mina was forced to back down at this. "No. No, of course not. I was speaking only in the generalities of this season - a season which has already brought us a host of developments and occurrences nobeast could have foreseen. I merely seek to impress upon you not to rule out any possibilities or eventualities out of paw, or to limit your options through such assumptions."

Tolar raised his eyebrows. "Do you expect something might happen to strain relations between Foxguard and Redwall ever further?"

"I _expect_ nothing, Tolar. But even you must admit your position would be rendered all the more tenuous if you were forced to go back on a promise it was never your place to make."

Harth and Grota traded a wordless glance at this display of friction between the former Northlanders and presumed allies, each resisting the urge to crack another "lover's tiff" remark, however much this might have annoyed Tolar, Mina and Mona all. With such open divisions on parade here, they were content to sit back and avoid calling undue attention to themselves, and see where it would all lead.

Unfortunately, they never got a chance to find out, for at that moment Highwing lopsidedly flutter-flapped down onto the lawns alongside them. "Good morning, ah, everybeast," the Sparra leader said by way of general greeting. "Ah, Madam Mona, if I may have a word with you alone, please?"

In spite of the tense atmosphere among foxes, rats and squirrel, Mona let slip a bemused smirk; the formality-minded sparrow was the only creature at Redwall aside from Metellus who ever addressed her as "Madam." She rose from the lawn and accompanied the bird a score of paces away from the others so they could speak in relative privacy. "Yes, Highwing, what is it?"

"It's Vanessa, ma'am. Not to beat about the bush, but I truly am concerned for her. Ever since reassuming the role of Abbess, she simply ... hasn't been herself. I've known her since she was a novice and I was a chick, and we have always been the closest of friends, but now ... ever since returning to her senses, there's been something different about her. A coldness that was never there before, a hardness ... she was always the most compassionate and kind-hearted of mice, but now she's changed. She's simply not the same mouse she was before, and I worry it may be some progression of her condition, rather than a recovery. Perhaps she is only deteriorating further, and this is the latest manifestation of her decline. I would very much like you to have a look at her, to see what you can make of it yourself."

"I would like nothing better, my friend, and stated as much yesterday in Great Hall. The Abbess, however, seems to have other ideas on the matter. She expressed fairly blatant skepticism over whether I would be able to diagnose her with any greater success than I have in the past, and was, to be quite frank, bluntly dismissive of my talents in this area. I fear she will prove most resistant to any such effort on my part." She favored the sparrow with an appraising look. "However, if the two of us present a united front of concern - particularly to Arlyn and Metellus, who after all are Redwall's official healers of the moment - perhaps we could browbeat Vanessa into sitting still for an examination."

Highwing ruffled his plumage. "These days, Nessa seems to have taken back the mantle of Infirmary keeper, along with Abbess. Wouldn't surprise me if she appoints herself Champion next, and calls for Monty to bring the Sword of Martin back from the quarry for her to start carrying around. Did you hear what happened with those four rats up in the Infirmary?"

"Yes, Mina filled me in on that last night. I was shocked to hear of such behavior from Vanessa. Most abnormal - and all the more reason for me to have a look at her."

"And all the more reason for us to involve as many others as we can," added Highwing. "I was thinking of Geoff in particular. After all, if Nessa should take yet another drastic turn - one which might perhaps render her once more incapable of discharging her responsibilities as Abbess - then Geoff would once again need to reclaim the Abbot's chair. So, this affects him directly, perhaps moreso than any other Redwaller."

"Very well. I spent some time speaking with Arlyn and Metellus yesterday, and the subject of Vanessa did come up, so they know where I stand, and I don't think they will need much persuading to join us in what you propose. Let me know when you'd like me to go with you to speak with Geoff, and I will make myself available."

Highwing cocked his head, a gleam in his eye. "No time like the present, is there, Madam?"

As vixen and Sparra excused themselves to see to this task, Harth too rose to take his leave, Grota standing along with him.

"It's been ... a breakfast," the rat said to Tolar and Mina. "Let's do it again in a season or two. Until then ... "

As they ambled away to rejoin their fellow rodents, Grota grumbled, "Well, that was a waste of a mealtime, with beasts who'd just as soon see us dead, or in chains. Muffin's sittin' heavy in my stummick now ... "

"A waste? Were you sittin' with the same creatures I was, Grote? You've got that head fox and his vixen givin' each other th' cold shoulder, an' then that archer she-devil almost gets inta it with him too, an' not just over something trivial, but the very heart of matters 'tween Redwall an' the badger's forces."

Grota grinned. "Yeah, that was kinda fun t' watch, I'll admit."

"Fun?! Grote mate, they're comin' apart at th' seams! That fox was about three breaths away from tellin' our favorite squirrel queen t' go jump in the pond, and declarin' outright that he wasn't gonna follow his Lord's orders no more. He's none too pleased by what's gone on here with Lattie bein' snatched an' Redwallers gettin' slain over it. This could be a break 'tween that badger's forces - which could be a break for _us_. They start fightin' 'mongst themselves, they might just forget all about us rats!"

00000000000

"Something's gone wrong."

Vanessa stood on the west walltop directly over the main gate, staring across the Plains to the nearly-invisible line of mountains beyond. Maura and Winokur flanked her on either side, and nobeast else stood near; whether that was through idle happenstance or the eldritch will of their Warrior/Abbess, the badger and otter could only guess.

While the rest of the rising Abbey greeted the new day in Great Hall or Cavern Hole, or out on the lawns under the blissful golden spring radiance, the three conspirators had climbed up to this vantage to speak privately - if in full view of anybeast who cared to look their way, although few did - Winokur and Maura sensing that Vanessa might have news of import to impart.

"Wrong?" Maura prompted, a flutter of dread settling upon her heart. "Wrong how?"

"Latura is no longer at Salamandastron. She has moved beyond that. And still she lives ... "

Hope lit Wink's face. "Urthblood didn't slay her?"

"It appears not. Which is good news for Latura - up to a point - and also for you, who hoped so fervently that she might somehow be saved, and emerge from her ordeal with her life. But it is hardly good news for us - for Redwall, or the lands."

"Because your trap failed?" Winokur said, his tone flirting with accusation. "And Urthblood now stands unchecked?"

"Yes - and because he now must _know_ it was a trap. He would not have gone to the lengths he did to secure Latura - risking war with Redwall, and alienating all of Mossflower - and then just turn her loose. Somehow he figured out the threat she posed to him ... realized that destroying her would also destroy him, and stayed his paw before striking the fatal blow, because I have no doubt that destroying her was his ultimate aim all along."

"How could he have found out?" asked Maura.

Vanessa's shoulders shrugged. "He would of course have wanted to examine her before carrying out the execution. Who knows what that badger sees through his eyes? Even I can do no more than guess at that. I'd assumed - counted on - the precise nature of the peril she posed to him remaining hidden from his perceptions until it was too late. That's what I was depending on. But Urthblood, it seems, has frustrated my plans, either accidentally or by design."

"Do you suppose he knows about _you_ now?" Maura ventured.

Vanessa was silent for many heartbeats. "Divining the nature of Latura's threat, and guessing that some other paw may have played a part in guiding that threat his way, are two different things. I did not create Latura, I did not reveal her to his prophetic sight, and I did not spur him to the extremes to which he has gone in order to bring her to him; all of that would have happened anyway, without my involvement. My pawprints are not on any of this, plain or obvious for anybeast to see, or even for an otherworldly creature such as Urthblood to easily suspect. The mere fact of Latura being brought before him should in no way have tipped him off to my part in these events. And yet ... I sense an attack coming."

Maura and Winokur both straightened in alarm. "An attack?" they said in unison.

"Yes," said Vanessa, raising her voice, "the scones were especially flavorful today, and complement the pennycloud cordial splendidly!" As she spoke these words, Harpreet, Skytop and Brybag fluttered low overhead, chittering among themselves and calling out hellos to their old teacher Winokur. The otter Recorder smiled and waved back, hoping the gesture didn't come across as too forced in light of the powderkeg Vanessa had just dropped.

"Well, that was a close one," Maura remarked as the Sparra trio flittered away.

"Not really. I sensed their approach, and changed the subject before they could decipher anything of import from us. It probably would have been safe for us to continue uninterrupted, but birds' hearing is sharp, and best not to take any chances."

"Indeed." Maura lowered her tone, even though the three of them now stood completely alone again. "Now, what is this of an attack?"

"I can't know Urthblood's exact thoughts, although I can sometimes catch a sense of his mood, just as I can never know his precise intent but sometimes glean insight into which way his attention lies. And just now I perceive that attention turned our way - with an accompanying mood that is anything but amicable. This is something new - and he would not hold such an attitude unless he suspects that Redwall played some part in this affair. And not just the part of victim either."

"If this is true, Nessa, then your bid to bring Urthblood down could end up being the very thing that brings an attack from him down on _us_. How do you imagine he will strike at us? How hard, and how soon?"

"That's what has me puzzled. This strategy of mine was always designed to provide us some wiggle room, and leave us with some options ... options it now appears I will have to pursue. But Urthblood's position is not entirely enviable either. We know he's gone to great lengths and risk to find and capture Latura; how long has he searched for her, and to the involvement of how many of his forces? We may only be aware of half the story in this regard. For him to have gone to such extremes, entirely of his own volition and initiative, and then turn around and try to declare it some nefarious plot against him hatched by Redwall's long-dead former Warrior ... well, he had better use exceeding caution in how he voices such suspicions, or else he risks casting himself as unhinged in the eyes of even his most loyal commanders. This, if nothing else, provides us with some mantle of protection, and might be enough to stay his paw from launching any direct assault upon us."

"Is this why you wished to keep your identity a secret from all the other Abbeybeasts?" Winokur guess.

"A large part of it, yes."

"But, as you were telling Tolar yesterday, Uthblood is very good at creating crises, and coming up with justifications for any course of action he cares to pursue. If he does now realize you've returned, and sees you as a threat to be dealt with, he won't necessarily have to tell his troops the real reason he's moving against Redwall; he'll just come up with some other excuse."

"Like our slaying of his gulls out on the Plains," Maura put in.

"Which I neither ordered nor approved, and was done in direct defiance of my wishes," Vanessa retorted. "Traveller and Log-a-Log made it clear they were acting as the Guosim and the Long Patrol, independently of Redwall."

"Yes, but does Urthblood know that?" Winokur pointed out. "Or, more to the point, does he care? If he's looking for a pretext to attack us, he wouldn't exactly share that with his troops, now would he?"

"And you yourself just said you sensed he'll attack us," Maura added. "What should we be doing to prepare for such an assault? What _can_ we do, if he throws everything he's got at us, all at once."

"Yes, I do sense an attack - but that sense remains vague and ill-formed. It could be that even he still ponders precisely what he will do. And perhaps he realizes his own choices are limited. In any case, he will not be able to move against us at once, I suspect. He will want to weigh his options, explore different avenues, and only once he settles on a definite response can he begin planning for it ... all of which means we have time. Perhaps not a lot, but we do have breathing space. A window we must use to our fullest."

"Yes, but ... how?" Winokur asked. "Whether we have one day, or ten, or the rest of the season, how will that time avail us? We won't be able to raise any kind of army to stand against Urthblood. Not if he goes with an all-out attack on us."

"Lord Sodexo has spoken of his ability to win south Mossflower to our cause, should we come to that pass. Maybe it is time to more fully explore just how completely he can deliver on such a pledge. But even the most stalwart woodland allies we might be able to call upon from that region will not be fighters of the skill and experience Urthblood commands. No, I deem such reinforcements would hold more symbolic value than anything, to show that Mossflower truly does stand united against him. In the end, I suspect the battle may hinge upon not what fighters we can convince to join us, but which ones we can convince not to join Urthblood."

Winokur's eyes widened. "You speak of Foxguard?"

"I do. Tolar has labored hard and gone out of his way to make sure he remains on friendly terms with Redwall, and already felt his efforts in this area were being undermined even before learning of the incident with Latura. As I told you last evening, Wink, I sense a deep and undeniable dissatisfaction coming from him, one he would never voice aloud. At least not yet. That gives me a lot to work with, and believe me when I say I am working on it to my fullest. If a division exists to exploit, then exploit it I will. And if the day comes when Urthblood finally does move openly against us, then maybe - just maybe - he will find himself without one of the key forces he was counting on in such a conflict."

Winokur wrinkled his whiskers. "I'm still not sure how I feel about reaching into other beasts' minds, and twisting them to our own advantage without them even realizing it."

"There are risks, besides just the moral questions," Vanessa conceded. "But Urthblood fights dirty when it comes to influencing potential allies and winning them to his cause, and I will do no less. Not where the safety of Redwall is concerned."

"What of Lady Mina?" Maura broached. "Winning her to our side over Urthblood's would be quite a prize too, I'd think - and with her in such a weakened state after her injury, she must have been vulnerable. Have you, uh, been 'working' on her as well?"

Vanessa's head shook. "That's comparing apples and acorns, Maura. Tolar is riddled with doubts and apprehensions, which makes him especially susceptible to my influence. Mina possesses none of this, arrogant and sure of herself and her allegiance as always. She would not be easily swayed. But more to the point, she lacks strategic value. Tolar commands an entire fortress and a brigade of Urthblood's most elite fighters; push him slightly sideways out of Urthblood's chain of command, and Foxguard goes with him. In Mina's case, even if I could sway her, I would gain only her; the rest of the Gawtrybe infesting Mossflower now remain too fanatically dedicated to that badger, too set upon carrying out his orders, to ever deviate from that. They are not winnable; they will always remain Redwall's enemy as long as Urthblood controls them, even should their High Lady turn our way. They would likely blame Alex and the rest of us for making her 'soft.' In fact, such a view might only harden their resolve against us in any larger confrontation, convinced that we've somehow compromised the one they hold in such high esteem."

"And they'd be right," Winokur wryly pointed out.

"So Mina's right out." Maura heaved a sigh. "I just wish we knew what beast told him about you. How Urthblood learned of your return ... assuming he has."

"A large part of it could have been him figuring it out on his own - assuming, as you say, he even does know it's me, and not just Redwall in general. It could have been Alex; I didn't see him before he ran off on his chase with the Colonel, and thus had no chance to impress forgetfulness upon him. It could have been Latura herself; she was never a force I could control. It could have been somebeast else - I just don't know. But that bridge is crossed, and now we must look ahead to what's to come, and what must be done."

"Can we get Latura back?" Winokur proposed. "If Urthblood has neither slain nor imprisoned her, then he might not concern himself with her any longer - which could free us to rescue her as we couldn't before."

"To what purpose? As far as Urthblood is concerned, she has been neutralized. He now knows he dare not kill her, since that was the only way she could endanger him, but since there is no other way she can harm him, she has been rendered inconsequential."

"I wasn't thinking of that ... Abbess," Wink bit off, not even trying to hide how this mercenary attitude toward the ratmaid incensed him. "We should rescue her because it's the right thing to do - especially now that she can no longer be used as your secret weapon against Urthblood."

"Perhaps she can," Maura begged to differ. "If it does come to open battle, being able to field a beast Urthblood dare not slay, and that no other beast might be able to, could have its advantages. Even if Latura can't wield a blade, sling or bow for the life of her - pardon my choice of words - her mere presence could disrupt things enough to throw the other side into disarray."

"I will not deny she possesses the potential to do just that, Maura. But remember, fate protects her, and lashes out against those who would do her harm. I have already sought to use her for my own ends, and look at how that turned out. Even if our motives were pure, if we were to thrust her into the middle of a battle where she didn't want to be, the backlash could just as easily break against us as Urthblood, and we'd find ourselves reeling from the repercussions of exploiting her so, at exactly the time when we could least afford it. Fate could perceive us as Latura's enemy just as easily as it could place Urthblood in that role."

"Hmm - hadn't thought of that," Maura confessed.

"I don't see how," Winokur disagreed. "Redwall is the sanctuary where she and her kind were granted safe haven, and where her family and fellow villagers reside still. She would act to protect it; I know she would. And if she were here, we wouldn't even have to ask her to place herself in harm's way if it might save Redwall. She'd do it herself."

Vanessa sighed. "I fear you may be attributing traits of altruism and sacrifice to Latura that lie totally beyond her. But the point is moot; where Latura has gone, we cannot recover her."

"Why?" Winokur asked. "Where is she now? Where did she go after Salamandastron?"

"West. She went west from Urthblood's mountain."

"West? But that's not possible! Salamandastron lies on the very shores of the Western Sea, and that's as far as ... " Wink's voice trailed off as the light of dire comprehension lit his eyes.

Vanessa gave a sedate nod. "Yes. Tratton has her now, I fear."

Winokur blanched, recalling the horror stories he'd heard from some of the liberated slaves of how the Searat Empire treated its unwilling guests.

"So, is that good for Tratton, or bad for him?" Maura pondered. "Having Latura in his realm?"

"Urthblood most certainly would not have turned her over to Tratton if he thought the searats could benefit from the situation in any way. Since this is Latura we're talking about, I cannot answer with any more certainty beyond that. But I suspect the forces of fate protecting her are about to be put to the ultimate test."

Before they could speak further, they became aware of a lone creature climbing the nearest wallsteps and heading toward them along the ramparts. Either Vanessa's mantle of exclusion wasn't working on this Abbeybeast, or else she didn't mind being joined by this particular badger.

"Excuse me, Mother Abbess?"

"Yes, Metellus, how may I help you?"

"Um, I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"No, we've pretty much hashed out this particular dish. What's left of it is nothing that can't wait. What's on your mind?"

Metellus looked to Maura and Winokur, as if debating whether to speak openly in front of them, then said, "It's Mona, Abbess. I ... I fear there's something wrong with her."

"Oh? In what way?"

"Well, that's just it. It's nothing I can put my paw upon. But yesterday we talked a lot. She wanted to ask me and Arlyn how my training was going, and if I wanted to go to Foxguard to study with her some more. And ... well, there was just something about her, something I've never seen or sensed before. She's changed, somehow. Arlyn noticed it too, when I asked him about it after, but I don't think he thought much of it, saying she's just feeling the strain of recent events. But I've worked with Mona a lot more than he has, so to me it was very obvious. Her mood, her manner ... it's just not right. Something's happened to her, Abbess. In fact, when she invited me to return to Foxguard with her, for the first time ever I could tell she didn't mean it. She only did it because she knew I expected her to ask, but in her eyes and her voice, I could tell she really didn't want me to say yes."

"Is that so? Most interesting. At yesterday's tea and last night's supper, I may have sensed a certain ... pensive guardedness on her part that was new to her, but I do not know her normal demeanor and habits nearly as well as you do, so I thought nothing of it. Would you like me to have a closer look at her, to see if I can shed any light on this matter?"

"If you could please, Abbess, I'd very very grateful. I figured you'd be the best one to ask about this, since ... well, with what everybeast is saying about you."

"Ah, yes. My eyes see deeper and father than most, hm? Yes, Metellus, I will be more than happy to do this for you." Turning to Maura and Winokur, the once-and-current Abbess of Redwall said, "Mona has been needling me to submit to an examination to satisfy her curiosity about my return to coherence. It seems she will finally be granted her wish - but what she won't know is that while she's examining me, I'll be examining her much more closely!"


	30. Chapter 102

**CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWO**

Alexander supposed he should have counted himself lucky not to have been cast in irons or locked away in a cell without a key upon his arrival at Salamandastron - a scenario he'd pondered as a distinct possibility during his journey to the mountain with Palter. But if he undoubtedly fared better in this respect than his now-shipbound former companion, he still didn't feel entirely free himself.

After his unsettling meeting with Urthblood, he was shown to quarters whose adequacy left no cause for complaint. And while, during his first restless foray from his assigned chamber to test the limits of his hosts' hospitality, he might almost have believed he was welcome to wander where he would, he quickly learned what Ambassador Erzath had found out long before: that his ever-present escorts excelled at unobtrusively guiding him away from wherever they didn't want him to go. Alex may indeed be free to leave Salamandastron and return to Redwall whenever he wished, as his guardians strongly intimated, but here inside the mountain, he enjoyed less choice of movement than the Abbey leverets under Mother Maura's watchful eye.

And on the subject of that searat diplomat, whose existence had been reported and verified by the freed slaves upon their arrival at Redwall, Erzath may as well have been a figment of their collective imaginations for all that Alex saw of him. Clearly, his escorts had orders to keep the two of them from meeting, which only confirmed his suspicions on any number of matters. The invisible Ambassador would likely be able to refute once and for all Matowick's cover story of a proposed searat delegation visiting Redwall - not that this fabricated proposal hadn't already been thoroughly discredited to any astute beast's satisfaction, but a little independent confirmation might have been nice. More to the point, Alex strongly suspected Urthblood sought to keep the two of them separated to hide just how much the searats _didn't_ know about the situation in Mossflower. Were they even aware that Redwall had taken in nearly two hundred woodland rats, or how this had strained relations with the Badger Lord to the breaking point? Did they have any clue of the mission to snatch Latura, and how that ill-conceived operation had led for the first time to bloodshed and open battle between the two sides? Did they suspect that so many of Urthblood's gulls had been slain in that confrontation, including their captain, or that a new Badger Lord had entered the game, one who might be able to tip all of Mossflower against Urthblood?

All of this and more Alexander could have shared with Ambassador Erzath. Small wonder that he was unlikely to set eyes on the rat for as long as he tarried at Salamandastron.

As for the scheming, duplicitous Gawtrybe commander himself, Matowick was making himself as scarce as Erzath, if for different reasons. Perhaps some modicum of shame kept him from desiring the presence of one of the Abbeybeasts he'd so egregiously wronged, although Alex tended to doubt that, based on their only encounter here so far. More likely, the sight of Alex would bring back traumatic memories of the disasters which had claimed the lives of his five team members; seeing close comrades smeared into bloody streaks or cast into a lethal abyss could affect even seasoned campaigners and conniving rat-snatchers. And then there was the most obvious and least nefarious reason of all, the desire to spend time with his wife and newborn son, a natural instinct anybeast with half a heart could relate to. The thought of his squirrel adversary getting to enjoy such a respite caused a pang in Alexander's heart, but he could not dwell overlong on how he and Mina had so far been denied such a blessed gift, in spite of their best efforts.

Then again, he preferred not to dwell on Mina very much at all just at the moment.

Thus it came to pass that he found himself seated that morning in the dining hall of Salamandastron with no rat Ambassador or Gawtrybe Captain in sight, surrounded instead by his constant escort of constantly-rotating mice, hedgehogs and squirrels, the expression on each face more blandly noncommittal than the next, neither offering offense nor relaxing their watchfulness. But other creatures joined this breakfast as well, beasts not a part of Urthblood's forces, and their presence, far from cheering the Redwaller, made Alex feel as isolated and alone as he did shadowed and scrutinized.

"Saw it with me own eyes, I did," Whiskersalt declared over his bowl of kelp porridge as Wakefern and Ramjohn and Chobor nodded in agreement. "Lord Urthblood, 'ee had his blade out an' ready t' strike down that sorceress, remove her threat to the lands forever, but 'ee held 'is paw, an' let 'er live. Greatest act o' mercy I e'er did see."

Alex, while glad to finally hear exactly what had happened to Latura from creatures who'd been there to witness her face-off with Urthblood themselves, nonetheless bristled at the way the badger had already colored these events to his advantage in the eyes of his nautical guests, casting himself as the venerable protector of the lands and shores while presenting the helpless ratmaid as something far different.

"Sorceress, huh? Is that what he called her?" Alex didn't try to keep the acid bitterness from his voice.

"Aye," affirmed Whiskersalt's fellow otter Wakefern, "an' after hearin' Cap'n Matowick's tale o' how she brought th' mountainside down on his team an' made th' rock ledge underpaw crumble an' fall away, can there be any doubt?"

"You were followin' 'em all th' way here," Ramjohn added. "You musta seen the aftermath that rat witch left in 'er wake."

"Did Urthblood neglect to mention that Latura, and her family and fellow rat villagers, were protected guests of our Abbey, the sanctuary of Redwall granted them, and she was stolen right out from under us by deceit and force of arms, violating our time-honored ways and customs?"

"Why would you even want a beast like that in yore midst?" Ramjohn's otter first mate Chobor asked in genuine earnest. "After seein' what she c'n do, I'd think you'd be thankin' Lord Urthblood for takin' her off yore paws."

"Aye," concurred Wakefern, "if she c'n cause rockfalls an' ledge collapses, 'magine what damage she coulda done t' yore fair Abbey."

Alex stared the otter captain down. "She wouldn't have done anything to damage Redwall, because we weren't trying to hurt her. And you can bet every squirrel of Matowick's team would still be alive if they'd left well enough alone and not infiltrated our home, dragging Lattie off someplace she didn't want to be."

"Lattie, huh?" Whiskersalt twitched the distinctive facial feature that gave him his name, licking clinging drops of porridge from the overhanging fur there. "That's a bit of a cute name fer a beast who can command such dark powers. Shore ye ain't a liddle too close to this t' see the true picture nice 'n' clear?"

Alexander's unyielding gaze shifted from Wakefern to Whiskersalt. "We knew what Latura could do. She's a prophet, just like Urthblood, not a practitioner of some darker arts, and right now there are eightscore rats at Redwall who wouldn't be there if Lattie hadn't warned them of our badger host's merciless, cruel campaign of sweeping up blameless rats from their homes and enslaving them to be delivered to Tratton, where fates too terrible to contemplate undoubtedly await them. Or hasn't Urthblood told you of what's going on in Mossflower, and what's already happened in the Northlands?"

"He's told us," Whiskersalt answered unsympathetically. "An' most rats I've had th' displeasure o' meetin' 're anything but blameless. Not shore why yore even stickin' up fer 'em, bein' a woodlander who's likely suffered at their paws sometime or other over th' seasons ... "

Unbidden memories of Wolfrum arose in Alexander's thoughts - then he remembered that even that murderous rat wouldn't have seen the inside of the Abbey if not for Urthblood. "It's not like that. Those rats came to us to escape a fate worse than any decent creature should know - or any rat either, if you want to be that way about it. I've seen the Purge in action. I know evil when I see it. And this campaign is just plain wrong, in every moral sense I've ever known. Since granting them safe haven, they've observed our rules and done nothing to violate our ways - unlike the Gawtrybe. As for Latura, she possesses some link or bond with our founding Warrior, who clearly wanted her to come to Redwall, and may even have aided her in reaching our gates."

Wakefern chortled in spite of himself. "Well then, 'ee didn't do a very good job o' keepin' her, now did 'ee?"

Alex narrowed his eyes at all of them. "Did Urthblood tell you that Redwall and Salamandastron are now at war?"

Abellon, who'd thus far sat in silence, content to let the Redwall squirrel vent, could no longer hold his tongue in the face of this assertion. "At war? If that's really true, do you suppose we'd allow you to roam free throughout our own fortress?"

"Free? I'd call myself about as free as a fish in a barrel right now, with the way my every step has been guided during my time here. But that's beside the point. If we're not at war, what was the battle in the Western Plains all about?"

The mouse captain answered Alexander's challenge without hesitation. "I'd say it's about creatures not knowing their place, stepping out of line and paying the price for their temerity. Lord Urthblood briefed all us captains last night, and he impressed upon us how it was the Long Patrol hares - acting on their own - and the Guosim shrews - also acting on their own - who defied Redwall's Abbess to force the issue, all under the sway of an interfering badger who had no direct stake in these events, and should have stayed in his southern homelands."

"A legitimate Badger Lord and friend of Redwall's," Alex countered, "who throttled the life out of Urthblood's gull commander with his own paws after those winged terrors slew several members of our rescue party - a Badger Lord, I might add, to whom I would gladly swear allegiance in the face of a greater threat to my Abbey home. And as for anybeast being 'under his sway,' if you believe that, then you don't know the Long Patrol very well - or the Guosim."

Abellon grimaced. "And yet you're our guest and not our prisoner, contrary to whatever claims you may care to make. But our hospitality goes only so far, as does our tolerance. Try to poison the atmosphere with your misguided umbrage too much, and you'll find yourself expelled from this mountain - and possibly marched clear off the coastlands and back to Mossflower, to keep you from making any trouble on our watch. I'll escort you myself, if Lord Urthblood commands it."

"You'd do anything Urthblood tells you to, wouldn't you? Maybe it's time some of you stopped."

Abellon scoffed at the Redwaller. "You try wagin' a seasons-long campaign to tame a wild region like the Northlands, an' then fight a war with a whole empire of searats, an' tell me how well you fare. But it's alright, I'll not hold it against you; Lord Urthblood urged us t' keep in mind that you're here on your own too, an' you don't speak for Redwall. It's only a war if the Abbot or Abbess says it is, and so far, as far as we know, that's not the case. Matter o' fact, your own Abbess ordered you to disengage and return to Redwall, and not try to rescue the rat, didn't she? Sounds like somebeast here could use lessons on how to follow orders - which leaves you as the last one who ought to be lecturin' us on whether we should disobey our own orders!"

"Better to disobey an Abbess who's only recently returned to her senses and may not be entirely in command of herself, than to blindly follow a mad tyrant. Do you know that Urthblood believes it's his destiny to face Martin the Warrior in battle? A mouse who's been dead for scores of generations!"

Abellon made no comment, scowling as he returned to his breakfast. It was Chobor who said, "But, weren't ye just tellin' us you berlieve yore Warrior helped this rat sorcerer - er, ratmaid - get to yore Abbey? Why's it reas'nable fer you t' think that, but Lord Urthblood's mad fer thinkin' he might hafta face that selfsame, long-dead Warrior?" The otter first mate shrank in his seat as Alex glared daggers at him. "Hey, just sayin', is all."

"War or no war," Whiskersalt weighed in with the mantle of the seasoned negotiator and peacemaker among them, "there's been strife, an' bloodshed, no matter what name ye give it. Seems t' me that's the important thing here - that, an' how t' keep any more o' it from happ'nin'. Where do we go from here, friends?"

"Urthblood gets Latura back for us," Alex pounced, "and releases all other rats from Mossflower he's taken into custody this season."

"Ain't happening," Abellon muttered.

"And then he puts an end to this Purge of his," Alex plowed on as if the mouse captain hadn't spoken, "and withdraws all his Gawtrybe from the region of Redwall."

"Also not happening," Abellon said resignedly.

"If Urthblood wants peace, this is what he must do," Alex concluded. "If he presses on with his present course, I fear further clashes are inevitable." Pausing a moment, he added, "I'll make sure of it, in fact."

Abellon leaned forward at this. "Watch yerself; talk like that _could_ land you inside a cell, and then maybe you'd appreciate just how much freedom we've allowed you so far."

"Do to me what you will; this won't come down to any one beast. My second-in-command of the Mossflower Patrol is perfectly capable and qualified to take my place there, and you'll find he'll not hesitate to take you on any more than I would. And my best friend happens to be Skipper of Redwall's otters; should anything happen to me, just watch how quickly he and his crew would turn against Urthblood. But then, he knows a thing or two about otters turning against him, doesn't he? Did you know one of the rats we currently shelter is an old comrade of yours? A captain by the name of Truax? Did you know it was another old comrade of yours who helped Truax escape to Redwall? Saybrook apparently thinks so little of your master's actions that he actively worked against them. Wonder how he'd feel if he knew Urthblood was slaying Redwallers and besieging our Abbey? Don't think it would take too much to tip him and his powerful Northlands holts into open opposition against Urthblood. Redwall and Noonvale share a powerful ancestral link; perhaps it's time to renew those ties, and bring Saybrook along for the ride. And for that matter, let's bring in that meddling Badger Lord from the south while we're at it, because Lord Sodexo is the stalwart friend of Redwall that Urthblood only pretends to be, and after what he saw on the Western Plains, he and the hundreds of willing fighters he can win to his cause from his realm will not I suspect hesitate in standing fast with us. Perhaps this is what we'll have to do, now that you've forced us to it: forge an alliance stretching from the Northlands all the way down through Mossflower to the Big Inland Lake and the Dancing Cliffs, a unified bladed shield to stand against Urthblood's spreading encroachment and turn back the tide of his tyranny."

"And why would you wish to do such a thing, Alexander of Redwall?"

During his righteous tirade, Alex grew so fervent that his voice carried far throughout the dining hall, and so wrapped up in what he was saying that he failed to notice the red-armored badger coming down one of the stone staircases and crossing the floor toward his table in time to hear the second half of the squirrel's speech. Alex turned to face Urthblood, still flushed from his outburst and taken by surprise at his hulking host's abrupt arrival, but in no way chagrined or abashed at being caught badmouthing Urthblood in the warlord's own fortress.

"Because you frankly seem incapable of knowing your own limits and boundaries, or respecting ours. Mossflower does not belong to you."

"Nor to you, as I understand it - which leaves me free to conduct any operations there I deem necessary for the safety and security of the lands. I trust you slept well? I would have you be comfortable during your stay here."

"I slept just fine. Your claims of working for the security of the lands have worn very thin with me and my fellow Redwallers. You abducted Latura because of the threat she posed to you, not to anybeast else. It was a move of naked aggression against us, to preserve your own power and not to help any other creature but you."

"But, if all my efforts have been to head off the great calamity my prophecy foretells and prepare the lands to deal with it, are they not one and the same thing? If the ratmaid truly could undo all my works, would that not be a disaster for all the lands? If she succeeded in bringing me down, might that not bring doom down upon us all? You cannot accuse me of acting only in my own self-interest - not if you knew what I know."

Alex was no more ready to back down than Urthblood was. "That may or may not be true where Latura's concerned - we have only your word on that - but then there's your wider campaign against all rats, and the atrocities being committed under the banner of your forces. I myself have witnessed no fewer than four instances of outright murder, and that was in the immediate vicinity of Redwall; I can only imagine what's gone on in other parts of Mossflower, or in the Northlands. I say the things I say now because your guests here have so far heard only your slanted version of events, and I felt I owed it to them to let them hear what's actually been going on in the inner lands."

"Then I must remind them that you do not necessarily speak for all of Redwall. If you did, where are your fellow envoys? Why did you come not in the presence of your fellow Abbeybeasts but a fugitive destined for resettlement? A companion, in fact, of the ratmaid who would have been my undoing? That is hardly diplomatic. Where is your note or dispatch from the Abbess? I can only conclude you are not here in any official capacity whatsoever - that, indeed you are a disgruntled renegade acting on your own, whose slanderous accusations are not to be taken at face value. I know more of the situation than you may realize. I know the Abbess did not approve your coming here. Did not, in fact, approve of any efforts to rescue the ratmaid whatsoever. Or would you deny that?"

"Do _you_ deny that you confided to me, yesterday in this very chamber, that you believe it's your destiny to face Martin the Warrior in battle? A beast who's been dead since the first generation after Redwall's founding?"

"I said no such thing, and I would respectfully enjoin you from putting words in my mouth. What I said was that I believe my prophecy suggests my destiny may be that of the greatest warrior who ever lived, but since many will always regard Martin as holding that title, there will be no practical way of claiming it for myself. No reasonable creature would think I actually mean to test my skill against that of a ghost. That would be ... most farfetched, would it not?"

Alex scowled. "That's certainly not how you made it sound yesterday."

"Then you are perhaps as impetuous in jumping to erroneous conclusions as you are rash in embarking on fool's errands. But things between me and Redwall are settled - for now. I have only just dispatched a note to the Abbess, a special thank-you for her part in this. I am sure that once it reaches the Abbey, there will be no further troubles from that quarter."

"Why? What did you say to her?"

"It is a message intended for certain eyes only. But I think you may find some surprises awaiting you upon your return."

"What do you mean?"

"If I revealed all, it would not be a surprise, would it? And on the subject of revelations, that was a surprising one you divulged regarding Captain Saybrook. I must say I am most disappointed to learn of his activities involving Captain Truax; I had thought better of him than that. Perhaps I will have to have a word with him when I am next in the Northlands. But for now that shall have to wait, for more immediate and pressing matters demand my attention at this time."

Urthblood's gaze shifted to Whiskersalt. "I realize we have not concluded our talks here, but I am wondering if you and Captain Wakefern would object to continuing them while in transit? Now that the affair with the ratmaid has been resolved, circumstances compel me to travel south, and I would like to engage the _Stronganchor_ for that purpose, to speed me on my way. How soon can you be ready to sail?"

This announcement surprised everybeast at the table; Alex had learned, before the breakfast conversation turned to Latura, that Wakefern and Whiskersalt were here at Urthblood's invitation to discuss an alliance between the Badger Lord and the sea otter holts of the western shores. (Ramjohn and Chobor, by contrast, had come to Salamandastron of their own accord, to complain about continued searat harassment of oceangoing trader vessels, and possible violations of the Accord in that regard, and to seek redress for the situation.) Given the loss of his otters the previous summer, Urthblood clearly - and logically - sought to bring the sea otters into his fold to make up for Saybrook's defection, and Alex could not imagine what new business might trump such negotiations in Urthblood's eyes - a sentiment voiced by the old chieftain as well.

"Reckern we could be off by day's end, Lord, if it be yore will," Whiskersalt replied, "but what matters would ye see as so urgent that ye'd disrupt our banter here t' put us all on th' move?"

Urthblood gave a sidelong glance at Alexander. "While this misguided dissident to his own Abbess speaks of forging an ill-advised and likely impossible alliance against me in Mossflower, I must see if I can forge an alliance of my own with Southsward."


	31. Chapter 103

**CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THREE**

"Put up yer oars! Put up yer oars, ya worthless, lazy, useless, wretched landscum!"

Crackmaster must have had a real given name at one time, but norat aboard the _Redfoam_ knew what it was - nor were they particularly keen to inquire very deeply into the matter. The brutish slavemaster had driven the newly-imprisoned rowers through most of the night with no food and little water, allowing them only brief snatches of slumber during his own intermittent naps at the back of the putrid lower deck. It seemed the captain and crew of the searat galleon meant to put as much distance between themselves and Salamandastron as quickly as they could, for whatever dark design the nervous and exhausted slaves could only guess at.

Morning had broken clear and bright over the rolling swells, the brilliant sun and azure skies and glittering wavetops visible through the oar holes. Roughly half the captive woodland rats had been stricken with violent bursts of seasickness, never having been to sea before, and Palter numbered among them, barely able to keep down the few sips of water allotted to him, hunger gnawing at his empty belly even as the mere thought of food made his stomach perform somersaults. With this faintness and nausea piled atop the burning weariness of rowing all night and the stiff ache of being tied into place on his hard bench, Palter could not remember when in his life he'd been more miserable. Not even the dread captivity and servitude of Krayne's valley, with the constant threat of execution hanging over him at all times, could compare to this.

In the row before Palter's, a female rat of middle seasons, clearly not affected by seasickness as he was, implored of their sadistic keeper, "Please, when c'n we 'ave summat t' eat? We're about t' pass out from weakness!"

"Food? Y' say y' want food, do ye?" the hulking rat growled with a cruel smile playing upon his lips. He tucked his coiled whip under the chin of an adolescent male seated next to the complainer, selecting the younger creature for the slave's clear discomfort. "What sez you, laddie? You 'ungerin' fer a nice big brekkist - mebbe poached albatross eggs an' fermented sea grog?"

The suffering male rat leaned forward, head between his knees, and gagged, although nothing came up; he'd emptied his stomach long before now. Palter, looking on from the back row, said silent thanks that the slavemaster hadn't singled him out for such a display, although he feared such indignity and humiliation would find him soon enough. He was just too scrawny to escape such cruel attentions for long.

Crackmaster's next statement, however, made Palter second-guess such thoughts, and wonder whether something far worse awaited him and some of the others.

"Food? Why would we waste perfectly good grub on any o' th' like o' ye, until we get it settled which of ye'll be stayin' around, an' which o' ye ain't? I been watchin' all night, seein' which o' you sorry crew c'n pull an oar handle worth a barnacle, an' which 're a lost cause. An' I'm tellin' ye now, when we take alla ye up topside in a liddle bit fer final inspection, there's mebbe half o' ye'll not be comin' back down 'ere again!"

"Well, that's a relief," said a father rat farther toward the front of the galley. "Mebbe those of us who ain't cut out fer rowin' c'n get some softer work ... "

Crackmaster sniggered at this naivety. "Oh, sure, matey - soft duty they'll get! Soft as seawater, harrharrharr!"

Shortly thereafter, a half-dozen cutlass-wielding crewrats descended into the rowing galley, wrinkling their snouts at the stench as they untied the ropes restraining the slaves and prodded them at bladepoint as a group past the other rat rowers up front who'd already occupied the galley prior to Salamandastron, up the two flights of stairs and along the companionways until they all stood abovedecks under the wide blue sky, the crisp ocean breezes rippling the three-colored sails above and providing fresh relief from the malodorous conditions of their previous confinement. While the sun and clean air might have been a deliverance of sorts from their prior conditions, the sense of momentary liberation was dampened by the sight of the endless ocean horizon in all directions, with no trace of land visible no matter where the eye searched.

The roughly twoscore prisoners were arrayed in an uneven line across the deck amidships, stretching from one railing to the other, port to starboard, while much of the searat crew had turned out to witness what was about to happen. Palter saw Latura standing near the middle of the line while he lingered near the port rail; their forced march topside had left him no opportunity to bring himself closer to the one creature in this whole disaster to whom he could still cling as some kind of anchor for both his hope and his sanity.

An authoritative rat with silks of privileged rank accenting his more utilitarian crewbeast's garb strode forward to stand directly before them, his coldly-appraising eyes sweeping slowly up and down their line.

"This's it, eh?" he drawled at last, affecting an exaggerated air of disappointed disgust. "This's what we sailed all th' way t' Salamandastron fer, what Urthblood saw fit t' give us? Well, guess we'll hafta make do with what we've been dealt, won't we?"

The female rat who'd dared to ask Crackmaster about food down below now raised a tremulous paw. "'scuse me, Cap'n sir ... ?"

"Oh, I ain't th' Captain," the silk-adorned rat replied with a wickedly lopsided grin as he hooked a pawthumb over his shoulder to the wheeldeck, where an even more distinguished-looking rodent in a fine coat and fancy tricorner hat topped by an ostentatious purple feather made a point of not even looking their way. "I'm first mate. Cap'n Trangle's got more important things t' worry 'bout than th' likes o' ye. So, Cracks, you been watchin' what our new oarsrats 'ere c'n do?"

"Aye," answered the brutish slavemaster, sounding supremely underwhelmed as he tarried behind First Mate Laverty. "Ain't much, c'n tell y' that. "

"Well, mebbe winnowing out some of th' weak links - heh heh - might leave those who're left as a more effective labor pool. You know what t' do, Cracks - get to it."

"Aye, sir." Starting at the starboard end of the line, Crackmaster walked slowly from one slave to the next. "If I tap ya on th' shoulder, go stand over there," he instructed, gesturing toward a cleared spot on the deck. "That oughta be simple 'nuff fer even thickheads like ye t' grasp, right? Here we go ... "

Minutes later, twenty-one rats remained standing where they'd started in the now gap-filled line-up, while the rest, having been singled out by taps on the shoulder from Crackmaster's coiled whip, clustered away in a separate group. Palter noted with a sinking feeling that all those pulled out of the line were able-bodied adults, leaving behind just the very young, the very old or infirm, or adults like him who weighed in on the scrawny side. He found scant consolation in the fact that he and Latura now stood with only two youngsters, who looked like brothers, separating them.

"I'm done," Crackmaster gruffly informed Laverty.

"Truly?" The first mate of the _Redfoam_ stepped forward as the slavemaster stood back, keen on performing an inspection of his own. "Seems like you passed over an awful lot here."

"Right, sir. An awful lot's what they are."

"Heh. Good 'un, Cracks. But, don'tcher deem any o' th' rest o' these're salvageable?"

"My job's t' pick out those fit fer rowin'. That's what I did. As fer th' rest - yer call, as allers."

"Fair 'nuff." Laverty paced up and down the line of remaining rats, performing his own inspection, and not seeming to particularly like what he was seeing; he visibly scowled at the ratmum cradling her swaddled babe, as if disgusted that such a thing had made it onto his ship. Retracing his steps, he singled out one young ratmaid and three rat lads - including the two separating Palter from Latura - and ordered them to go stand with the others chosen. "Too small yet t' pull their weight on the oars," he muttered, "but they look healthy 'nuff, an' we can allers use extra deckpaws fer swabbin' an' scourin' an' servin'. Too young t' cause trouble, an' right age t' be taught proper searat ways. Play their cards right, an' mebbe they'll actshully become crew."

The ratwife holding her infant, hearing Laverty's grumbled assessment, stepped forward and held forth her precious bundle. "Here, sir, take my son too, then. 'ee's but a babe, you'll be able t' raise him however y' like, make 'im one o' ye ... "

Laverty's face twisted in clear distaste, and he elicited snickers and guffaws from the surrounding searats when he said, "Oh, sure, we'll just deviate from our assigned course an' make a special run to Talaga, so we c'n drop off yer whelp with a nursemaid there. An' while we're at it, mebbe we'll enroll these other brats inta officers' school, have 'em trained alongside sons an' daughters of captains an' commanders from throughout the Empire. Wouldja like that?"

The trembling mother could tell from the derisive scorn being directed her way from all sides that nothing of the sort would happen, and timidly retreated to her place in line.

Laverty turned to some of his nearby crewrats. "Get th' stuff."

The eagerness with which his underlings responded stirred a sense of dread in the remaining land rats in the diminished line, and Palter took an unobtrusive sideways step to place himself closer to Latura, even though she didn't seem to be aware of him, or recognize him if she was. And all the while, the aloof captain of the _Redfoam_ kept to his spot on the raised wheeldeck, consulting with his navigator and steersrat while pointedly ignoring the spectacle unfolding just a glance away.

With a deep and ominous rumbling, two of the deckpaws rolled a large barrel up a ramp from the hold, pushing it across to where the slaves stood divided into two groups; from the trouble the duo had stopping it, the formidable keg clearly weighed quite a bit. Behind the two barrel-bearers came several more searats wrangling between them a generous length of dully-clinking chain.

Without word or warning, Latura quickly ducked around Palter's other side, effectively swapping places with him in line, although she continued to avoid any eye contact with him and said nothing. If any of the searats noticed her maneuver at all, none made any comment.

"Down on yer tails!" Crackmaster roared. "Arses on deck, an' footpaws out, now!"

The seemingly-furious whiprat was not to be disobeyed, and within moments every one of the seventeen prisoners of the original line sat flat against the weathered deck with their legs stretched out before them. To their horror, the chain-wielding deckrats went from one to the other, manacling them at the ankles with the rough, orange-coated fetters so that all were fastened to the same length of chain.

"Lattie," Palter whispered in alarm, "what's gonna happen? What're they gonna do to us?" An' why'd y' switch places with me?"

Latura replied, just loudly enough for the rat on Palter's other side to hear as well, "I'm th' weakest link. You hadta go b'hind me."

If she'd meant to say any more, Laverty's arrogant, mocking voice drowned her out. "Now, I'll have y' know metal's a right scarce 'n' precious commoderty to us searats - allers has been - an' that's 'specially true unner King Tratton, who's got special needs fer it no rat ever has before. But sometimes, metal just outlives its usefulness, an' becomes so much scrap. With that in mind, ye'll noterce th' chains 'n' shackles bindin' you now've seen better days, they 'ave. All rusted an' corroded, they're past their prime an' just about useless ... jus' like alla you. Which means ye c'n both be spared, an' norat'll miss ya. Deserve each other, y' do."

The first mate strode over to the barrel, around which his crewmates were now fastening the long trailing end of the chain. "Yah, we can spare some old rusty chain - jus' like we can spare a leaky ol' barrel, an' a few shovelfuls of ballast. Makes fer a nice liddle improvised sea anchor, it does - though we'll not be usin' it t' hold th' _Redfoam_ in place, oh no we ain't. Got plenny o' decently-maintained, proper anchors fer that. Naw, this's just dead weight we're best rid of, y' unnerstand?"

Laverty's wicked grin grew to diabolical proportions as the crew took down the side railing where the gangplank usually went - except that there was no gangplank anywhere in sight.

"So, let's be rid o' you - all o' you!"

With malicious glee lighting their faces, the two searats nearest the now-absent ship's railing heaved the barrel over the side. The shocked prisoners barely had time to widen their eyes in terror or open their mouths to scream before the chain went taut, and then the entire line of all seventeen of them - eighteen counting the babe clutched in the paws of his wailing mother - was sliding across the deck toward the starboard gap framing their doom. The first went over the edge and straight down with a bloodcurdling shriek, the second with an agonized scream, the third with a strangled cry, the fourth with a furious bellow ... but they were all screaming now, even those farther back along the chain who could clearly see what lay in store for them.

The searats, to a beast, just stood back, watching and grinning.

Captain Trangle had not ordered the _Redfoam_ to drop anchor for this sadistic exercise, so the galleon pushed forward through the waves even as the living necklace of condemned land rats slipped over the side one after the other. Once the ballast-weighted barrel and the first two victims were in the water, the forward momentum of the vessel began to tell, and the chain began to yaw aft, until it was rubbing against the section of the railing that hadn't been removed, even as the rusted links continued to clatter over the lip. It all happened so fast - as fast as rats were going over the side - that the watching searats didn't realize what had happened until it was over.

The seventh rat in the line went over; Latura was eighth. Her struggling predecessor contorted himself just enough as he plunged to his demise that she found herself being fetched up fast against the intact edge of the remaining wall-like railing, and then ...

_SNAP!_

It took several moments for the onlooking searats to fully realize what had happened, and then the smiles slowly faded from their faces to be replaced by expressions of puzzlement and, in a few cases, crushed disappointment.

Latura sat massaging the shoulder she'd banged into the railing. "Ow. That was rough."

The other condemned rats had stopped screaming with the realization that they'd come to a dead stop and were no longer being dragged to watery oblivion. Palter gaped at Latura, fully aware that she had made this happen, but no less astonished than the others for having witnessed it.

"Um ... what just happened?" Laverty asked of nobeast in particular.

An evil-looking searat with an eyepatch and bearing a loaded a crossbow stepped forward and bent down alongside Latura to inspect the chain. With a grunt of resignation he rose and announced to his comrades, "Chain broke. Link tore clean in half."

Crackmaster gave an amused grunt of his own from just behind Laverty. "Guess it really was a worthless ol' length o' chain, wasn't it? Harrharr ... "

The rat chained at Palter's other paw stared past him at Latura with eyes as wide as saucers. "She knew," the old creature breathed. "She knew this were gon' happen; that's why she weren't concerned ner fearful. Weakest link, she said." His gaze went to Palter. "She saved yer life, switchin' places with ya ... "

Palter nodded, still dazed at his narrow escape. "She made it happen. Lattie makes things like this happen. She ain't no mere rat."

Captain Trangle, up on the wheeldeck, now showed some interest in spite of himself.

"What's that those two're sayin'?" Laverty asked, only catching bits of Palter's exchange with his chainmate.

Scringewart, the one-eyed rat with the crossbow, reported, "Jus' some claptrap 'bout this ugly maid 'ere knowin' this was gonna 'appen, or made it 'appen, or some such idiocy."

"Is that so? Well, if she or any of the rest o' them think that's gonna save 'em, they're in fer a sore surprise. We got another ballast barrel ready?"

But the rats who'd brought up the first barrel frowned and shook their heads. "We only had one prepared, sir. Didn't think we'd need another."

"Hmm. Well, find sumpthin' else heavy we can spare, so we c'n send th' rest o' this sorry lot over t' join their fellows in th' brine. An' let's hope this time all th' links hold."

"Uh ... 'scuse me, but ... that ain't gonna work."

Laverty and the other searats gaped at Palter, cowering with one paw meekly raised. The first mate narrowed his eyes dangerously at the scrawny prisoner. "An' jus' why won't that work, wretch?"

"Lattie 'ere, she's got a charmed life. Can't be killed if she ain't meant t' die. An' from what just happened, she ain't meant to. Not t'day."

"A charmed life, eh?" Laverty's mouth twisted in wry amusement. "Scringe?"

Scringewart straightened to attention. "Aye?"

"Put a bolt in this charmed maid's heart, an' show these superstitious maggots what Cap'n Trangle thinks about such talk aboard his ship."

Scringewart grinned wickedly, raised his weapon to his shoulder, sighted along the bolt to take dead aim at Latura's breast, and pulled the trigger.

An instant later, Scringewart lay on the deck screeching and writhing in agony as he clutched at the bloody crossbow bolt protruding from his eye.

If the crewrats had been surprised by the snapping of the chain which had spared over half the condemned land rats from their rendezvous with a watery demise, they now stood stunned and struck still as stone by this impossible armament malfunction which had laid low one of their crewmates. And into those slack-jawed faces began to creep signs of doubt over their captain's longstanding dismissive scorn of all things mystical and occult - signs of which Trangle would not approve at all.

Laverty finally stirred himself to move, approaching Scringewart and bending down to the stricken rat. Forcing the protective paws away from the bloodied face to inspect the wound, the first mate saw that the errant, misfired crossbow bolt had penetrated far enough to utterly ruin Scringewart's sole remaining eye, even if it hadn't gone through to the brain. Standing and walking back to the others as the injured archer's screams trailed off to whimpers, Laverty said, "Pity. Scringe was one of our best shots, even with only one eye. But a bowbeast with no eyes is less use than this chained rabble. Martool, you do the honors."

From the wheeldeck, Captain Trangle was most definitely paying attention now.

Martool, a burly rat nearly as formidable as Crackmaster, strode forward and scooped Scringewart up off the deck, went to the side railing and lifted the blinded searat high over his head. When Scringewart realized what was happening, he screamed anew, this time in desperate protest. "No, no! I c'n still do tasks 'n' labors - I c'n still be o' use! Don't - aaarrgh!" His final cry followed him over the side as Martool flung him overboard and he splashed into the sea, never to be seen or heard from again.

Laverty nodded approvingly. "Now do th' same fer our magic wench over there - an' make sure you throw 'er hard 'nuff that she takes the rest of th' line with 'er."

Captain Trangle was on his way down from the wheeldeck now.

Martool stomped over to Latura, bent down and picked her up bodily, and hoisted her over his head just as he had with Scringewart, forcing Palter's manacled leg high off the deck as well as he and the other chained rats watched in renewed horror.

Latura went over the side, accompanied by an audible crack; she was not so much forcefully thrown as dropped, as Martool collapsed onto the deck with a solid thump. "Gahh! My back!"

Latura, dangling pendulum-like from the chain attached to Palter and the others, hit the side of the hull with an equally solid thump. "Ooof!"

Laverty stalked over to the fallen searat, not sure he wanted to know, while several of the crew clustered around him. "What's th' problem, Martool?"

"Can't feel me legs! Sumpthin' in me back went crack, dropped me like a stone! Think it's broke - I can't move legs ner tail!"

Somewhere back amongst the onlooking searats a voice was heard to ask, "Just what did Urthblood inflict on us?" - and that was all it took. Captain Trangle's crew might normally have scorned and scoffed at traditional vermin superstitions as so much ridiculous claptrap, but where Urthblood was concerned, all bets were off. Every rat of the Empire knew that badger possessed clairvoyant sight and a true Seer's eye for future and far events, and otherworldly insight into his enemies which rendered him all but invincible. Buried, suppressed superstitious beliefs bubbled to the surface now in light of what everyrat had just witnessed with Scringewart and Martool, and the breaking of the chain, all the pieces falling into place; Urthblood had pressed these last two rats upon them - indeed, the scrawny male claiming fated powers for his ratmaid companion had even delayed their departure while Urthblood finished with him - and if that badger had his paw in this, there was no telling what witchcraft and sorcery might be at play here. But they'd all just seen three attempts to kill Latura fail in spectacular, impossible fashion, and that was all they needed.

"What's going on here?"

Laverty and the other searats turned to look at Captain Trangle in his ornate coat and tricorn hat, descended from on high to stand amongst them. "We, um, had some mishaps, Cap'n," the first mate reluctantly confessed.

"So it seems. I just saw Scringewart blinded and cast overboard, while half a line of substandard slaves who should be in th' blue 're still clutterin' up my deck. Care t' explain?"

"Chain broke - old an' rusty. Scringe's crossbow misfired, cost 'im 'is sole remainin' eye."

"Hmm. An' Martool here?"

"Slipped disc, back spasm, sumpthin' of th' sort. Sure he'll be fine an' back on 'is paws in no time after some bedrest, I'm sure of it."

"I hope ye're right, Lavs. Be a shame if he hadta follow Scringe over th' side."

"Um, anybeast gonna pull me up?" Latura called from where she dangled head-down over the side.

"Haul her up."

Several deckpaws jumped to obey their captain, although they acted not on his instigation alone; where Latura was concerned, they seemed most eager to demonstrate they meant the ratmaid no harm.

When she was at last back topside, seated next to Palter with her tail firmly against the deck, she glared at the searats encircling her. "You tried t' hurt me! That ain't very nice! I'm Latura o' Redwall, an' I'm tellin'!"

This defiant outburst made several of the crewrats shrink back from her, although none stopped to wonder exactly who she meant to tell. Trangle, however, latched onto a different word in her diatribe, and squatted to look her in the eye.

"Redwall? Did you say ye're from Redwall?"

"Well, yeah. Fer a liddle bit, 'fore th' bad red snatched me an' brought me to 'is mountain. He's see-through, y'know."

Trangle let this revelation play across the surface of his brain, absorbing how so few words could hint at so much. Rising, he said, "Take these prisoners back down with the others, and get them all properly chained up to the oars. We'll not be drowning any more of them today."

"All due respect, sir," Crackmaster complained, "but none o' these on th' line're fit fer rowin'. That's why we was gettin' rid of 'em."

"Then I'll leave it to you to make 'em pull their weight. I trust you'll find a way t' make it work."

Laverty leaned in toward Trangle. "What about that babe, Cap'n? You want we should take 'im back down to th' rowin' galley too?"

"Lavs, ain't you th' one who's allers told me ain't no place fer such baggage on voyages like ours? Handle it as you see fit."

Laverty gave a knowing grin that would have done the dearly departed Scringewart proud in its evilness.

"Awright, on yer paws, ya poor excuses fer maggots!" Crackmaster ordered the chained rats. "Back to th' galley y' go - an' consider this th' luckiest day o' yer miserable lives!"

"Do we get these chains off?" asked an old ratwife on the line of the formerly-condemned as she eyed the unchained woodland rats who'd been selected out, a trace of envy in her eyes.

"I'll say when or if yer chains come off, y' old crone! Maybe it'll suit me t' keep you in 'em, as reminder ye're meant t' be dead 'stead o' cloggin' up my rowin' galley. Y' won't need yer footpaws free t' pull an oar!"

While the slavemaster roared his disapproval at the shrinking ratwife, Laverty came up on the ratmum holding her babe, unsteady from the effort of rising to her paws while both chained and cradling her son. Before she could stop him, the first mate grabbed the swaddled infant right out of her arms and stalked away with it. When she reached out for it and started to cry out in protest, two of the other crewrats beat her to silence with the flats of their swords.

Laverty made a point of lingering before Latura, staring the prophetic ratmaid squarely in the eye. "This's fer Scringewart," he growled, and cast the blanket-shrouded ratbabe overboard. An anguished cry rose from the bereft mother, a tortured wail cut down to wracking sobs by a fresh round of buffets and smacks from the two crewrats. Others among the prisoners gasped and moaned at this display of wanton cruelty, but Laverty only chuckled as he looked back at Latura. "Guess y' ain't powerful 'nuff t' protect _him_, were ya?"

As the woodland rats - chained and unchained alike - were herded back belowdecks, and Martool was borne after them down to his bunk to see whether some bedrest might allow him to regain the use of his legs, Laverty took Trangle aside. "What was that all about, Cap'n? What made you decide t' spare 'em?"

"Didn'tcher hear, Lavs? That rat sez she's from Redwall. King Tratton an' Spymaster Uroza've never been able t' get eyes inta that Abbey, or so 'tis said, an' I wager they'd give their eye fangs fer a rat who c'n tell 'em what's been goin' on there!"

Laverty remained doubtful. "Can we even berlieve 'er? I mean, a rat from Redwall? What would she've even been doin' there?"

"Who c'n say, Lavs? But that might be part o' her tale worth hearin'. That one struck me as a beast who ain't crafty enuff t' pull off a deceit or act of any kind. An' ain't she th' one who kept us waitin' t' haul anchor from Salamandastron?"

"Nay, that were her partner - th' one chained in line next t' her."

"He from Redwall too?"

"Um - didn't say."

"Well, Urthbloood kept 'im in th' mountain that extra time fer a reason - musta had somethin' real important t' talk about."

Lines of worry creased Laverty's brow. "Reckon it's some kinda plot Urthblood hatched t' try 'n bring about our undoing?"

"From th' moment His Majesty signed that Accord, we s'pected Urthblood might try 'n sneak soldiers 'n' spies aboard our ships, an' that's why we've slapped 'em all right in chains th' moment they set claw on board. Trust me, we'll keep a real sharp eye on those two. If they're plants, we'll make 'em come clean eventually. But if that feisty li'l maid's what she claims, now we got two reasons t' flag down th' first fleetrunner we see: News on that ship Clucus wants fer his own, an' mebbe news from Redwall as well!"


	32. Chapter 104

**CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR**

At that very moment, unbeknownst to Captain Trangle and his crew, their sovereign stood on a rocky plateau far across the sea to the west, surrounded by a small army of his rats as he squared off against the equally formidable squadron of his negotiating partners.

Talarek was at his side, of course, filling in for Malvarkis, who'd stayed behind at Terramort to ensure the Palace Guard remained loyal in Tratton's absence. At the Searat King's other side, sharing his presence with considerably less enthusiasm, stood Governor Martinoy and his wife Centrella, looking as if they'd rather be anywhere else on Talaga just then.

Across the barren ground from the searat representatives, arrayed in a fidgety, ruffling, occasionally fluttering half-circle of their own were the winged allies Tratton so desperately sought.

Cormorants. The creatures who held uncontested dominion over the island's desolate, undeveloped western half. Nearly twice as large as seagulls, and even more vicious in temperament. They were the main reason searats seldom ventured to the windward side of Talaga, not that much of use or interest was to be found there, but the cormorants seemed content to hold it for their own, using the spaces between the crags as their rookeries and fiercely defending their territory against any who would encroach. Subsisting largely on fish and other seafood, they really had no reason to range over into the searats' side of the isle - not that this ever stopped them from doing just that on occasion, foraging into the woods and croplands to supplement their diets with the odd nuts, berries and cultivated produce. That was about the only time birds and rats came into contact with one another - that, and when Tratton's captains and crews decided to engage in a little target practice or go hunting for some fresh meat to put on their tables.

That practice had recently ended, by royal decree and under pain of death. It might not have been enough, in and of itself, to win the alliance with these hook-beaked terrors, but it had gone a long way toward luring them here to this elevated nobeast's land straddling Talaga's competing regions.

Grabbrack, leader of his kind on Talaga through sheer brutality, held his place amidst scores of his feathered brethren just as Tratton stood bolstered by a large phalanx of armed supporters. Additional cormorants wheeled and screeched overhead, ready to drop down and engage at the first sign of treachery from the land beasts.

At the fore of the rats stood Torabi, the latest of Spymaster Uroza's head negotiators with Grabbrack's flock, and the only one to literally still have her head. It was through the efforts of her and her ill-fated predecessors that this summit had finally come off, and if the cormorants still didn't trust the rats, she was the one they'd come to distrust the least.

Grabbrack's baleful gaze went back and forth between Torabi, Tratton, Martinoy and Centrella, intently studying the one rodent he knew and the three he didn't, measuring them even as he remained alert for any false move of their part.

Negotiations had yet to commence. Martinoy swallowed nervously while Centrella wrung her paws in unconscious anxiety. "Did you really need us to be here, Majesty? We're no ambassadors, or diplomats, or parleyers. I'm afraid our skills won't add much to what ye're lookin' for here."

"Yes, Governor," Tratton said sharply, loudly and clearly, so that Grabbrack would be sure to hear, "I most certainly do want you here. As the longtime rulers of Talaga, it will fall to you to ensure smooth relations with our winged allies. It will be incumbent upon you to make this arrangement work. Certain promises have been made, and your roles in fulfilling them will be key." He looked meaningfully to Grabbrack. "Most key indeed - as I'm sure our hoped-for partners will agree."

The cormorant chieftain glared at Tratton, whom he'd now fixed upon as the one in charge of these rats - the high king Torabi had told him to expect. "Whaddya want?" he cawed in a dominant, screeching, keening rasp.

"You know what I want. I need fighters. Fighters who can fly. My enemy is great, and he has flying warriors of his own." Tratton paused for effect. "Sea ... gulls."

This evoked the desired reaction. The intelligence collected by Torabi and Uroza's other envoys here had revealed that the cormorants viewed gulls as their natural rivals over the sea, and inferior ones at that. If anything, it seemed they detested the gulls even more than they did rats, and the promise of engaging them in an actual war - with strong odds of winning, and a powerful ally at their side - was, Tratton knew, one of the chief drawing cards which had persuaded them to attend this meeting.

"Gulls! Gulls! Kreeeack! Skyscum, seascum! Smashem, smashem, strike from sky! Killem all, killem all!"

Tratton fought to keep from smiling broadly, even as Martinoy and Centrella took unwitting steps backward at this explosive enmity, as if suddenly realizing they were in the presence of a madbird - one large enough to cause them serious physical harm.

"Yes, my enemy has many gulls. Join me, and I will help you kill as many as you like. And then the skies and seas will belong to you."

Grabbrack settled down somewhat. "Good start, good start. What else?"

"I've already ordered that your flock no longer be hunted, for food or for sport. You have seen this yourself. Become my ally, and you and your kin will never again fall prey to the arrows of my kind."

"Not enough. Too many dead already, summer past summer past summer. Need blood for blood. Rat lives to answer for our lives."

Martinoy bristled at this suggestion, while Centrella blanched. "That's .. that's outrageous!"

"Be quiet, Governor."

Martinoy promptly shut up.

"The Governor here does have a point," Tratton said to Grabbrack. "Several of my rats who were sent to negotiate in good faith with you now lie dead. It speaks as a testament to how seriously I want this alliance that I kept sending rats to treat with you, and even now am willing to overlook those unfortunate sacrifices for the sake of future cooperation between us."

"We kill few in one season, you kill many many many, summer sun and winter storm. Must be more. Blood for blood, creeekah!"

"So, you seek ... restitution?"

Grabbrack stared wordlessly at Tratton; if Torabi had briefed the bird chieftain to expect this term to come up here today, apparently it had not stayed in his brain.

Tratton tried again. "You want repayment. More rats given to you, in answer for your birds slain by us."

"Yes! Yesyesyes!"

"Very well. A not unreasonable demand. And if I agree to this, will we have our alliance? Will you and your birds fly into battle with me against our common enemy?"

Martinoy and his wife looked on, he slack-jawed and she with her mouth pressed into a thin grim line, each aghast that such provisions were even being seriously considered. The few of their own house guard they'd brought with them to this rendezvous glanced around nervously, but Talarek and Tratton's much larger contingent of Royal Guard, bolstered by crewrats from the _Darktide_, seemed at ease and quite accepting of this turn in the negotiations, almost as if they'd expected it.

"Yesyesyes. You give rats, prove what you mean, then we have alliance!"

"Agreed - on one condition. I get to choose the rats."

Martinoy relaxed slightly at this, as a crafty smile lifted the corners of his mouth. So this was what His Majesty had been alluding to over dinner the night before, when he'd spoken of finding a use for all the land rats Urthblood had forced upon them. A brilliant strategy - he was surprised he'd not figured it out for himself sooner.

Now it was Grabbrack's turn to mull over terms. "You chief rat over all other rats?"

"Yes. I am."

"All others below you, do what you say?"

"If they want to live, yes."

"Wellthen. You choose rats to give us - after first choice. I make that."

"As you wish. Say who you would choose, and I will decide whether it is agreeable to me."

Grabbrack's smoldering, malevolent gaze went to Martinoy. "Want chief of island, who has killed my kind three summers and more!"

Martinoy's smile disappeared, the Governor clearly appalled that this barbarian would even dare voice such an outrage. "Well, there you have it, Yer Majesty. There's no reasoning with creatures like this. This whole affair's been a waste of - "

"Agreed."

For a moment Martinoy assumed Tratton had cut him off in his haste to concur, and present a common front to the savage cormorants just how beyond the pale the bird's request was. But then he realized with a shock that the Searat King had addressed not him, but Grabbrack.

The cormorant's vengeful glare went to Centrella, who now visibly trembled at her husband's side. "Want mate too, for mates killed by their rats."

"You ask much, Chieftain. I would be coldhearted indeed to concede to such a request."

"Give both, then we have deal."

"As you wish."

Martinoy's eyes bulged. "Sire! Majesty! What're you - "

Tratton's fighters moved before Martinoy's own guard could realize their immediate peril, turning arrows which had been nocked against possible cormorant aggression on their fellow rats instead. Within moments, all of the Governor's house guards lay transfixed by treacherous shafts, leaving Martinoy and Centrella quite alone amidst their enemies on all side.

"I am sorry, Governor," Tratton said with something approaching genuine remorse, "but Urthblood is too great a threat, and this alliance too important to fail. Sacrifices needed to be made; I'm sure you and the Governess will understand." He turned back to Grabbrack. "They're all yours, Chieftain. Do with them as you please. But after them, you choose no more, and will be happy with the rats I give you."

"Yes." Grabbrack's triumphant, possessive gaze fastened on Martinoy and Centrella, now pinioned by a quartet of Tratton's retinue. "Will be happy."

With the doomed former Governor and his wife shrieking and wailing and pleading in terrified desperation, Tratton turned and led the remainder of his force down from the plateau, Torabi at his side. "You do realize, Majesty," the female spyrat ventured, "the way those savages fight amongst themselves, that brute you just treated with might not even be in power by season's end."

"We're allies now, Torabi. We'll give him whatever he needs to stay in power. Because it is now in his interest ... and ours. But, if he should fall, then it will be up to you to establish ties with their new leader, since you are the one they've most come to trust."

Torabi swallowed nervously, not at all enamored of such a prospect, and not entirely sure she could survive another round of such negotiations. "Yes, Sire."

From Tratton's other side, Talarek asked, "You envision no problems with the surrender of the Governor and his wife, and the appointment of a replacement?"

"All the rest of his house guards down in Talaga Village will have to be executed at once, of course - they simply can't be trusted. Never pays to allow any armed element in the Empire to form a close working bond to any of my commanders. But Fort Ballaster remains a military garrison outside gubernatorial control or influence - Uroza has always seen to that - and the mere threat of unleashing those troops upon the village will keep anyrat from complaining too vociferously about Martinoy."

"I suppose you are right, Majesty, tho' I'll stick close to your side until the transition's complete."

"You forget, Talarek, I don't plan to be here that long."

"Yes, of course, Majesty."

Tratton idly regarded the clear blue sky overhead. "Martinoy and Centrella - they had ratlings, didn't they?"

It was Torabi who answered. "Aye, Sire. Son, daughter, an' a babe too."

"Have them collected and delivered to Grabbrack as well - an extra gift to demonstrate my largess. I can't very well have any vengeance-seeking whelps growing up with a grudge to settle and a vendetta against me or my heir, now can I?"

00000000000

"So, how did Captain Voccola receive news of his promotion to Governor?"

"With a certain measure of forced cheer, I am sure. What capable ship's captain would prefer to give up his vessel and crew for a landbound appointment, even if it is to be steward of one of the most important isles in the Empire? But Voccola possesses the perfect blend of traits for this position, I feel. For all of his hardbitten seafarer's gruff and penchant for running a tight ship, I've always sensed a definite ostentatiousness to him as well. As much as he bears down on his crew to perform well, he also can't resist a display, any excuse for pomp and ceremony ... "

"Yes, I noticed that myself when I landed in the _Deeprunner_. He insisted upon equal polish to blades and boots."

"In spite of his more pompous leanings, I trust him to favor the blade over the boot. Martinoy was never half the fighter Voccola or most of my other captains are, and my reward to him of a soft assignment for his early loyalties only made him softer. And as for his wife, she combined the unfortunate characteristics of social-climbing ambitions without the spine or the teeth to be properly ruthless about it - not that I could have tolerated too much of that, either. They'd grown far too comfortable here, come to take their good fortune too much for granted. Fortunately, their mercenary attitudes toward the cormorants made them them uniquely qualified scapegoats, and the perfect concession with which to seal the deal with Grabbrack."

"Fortunate for you, you mean. Not so fortunate for them, was it?"

Tratton and Regelline sat on the second-story veranda of the Governor's mansion overlooking calm and placid Talaga Bay, the royal couple separated by only the small circular wrought-iron cocktail table they shared. Trushar and Talarek and all their other servants and functionaries no doubt lingered within shouting range, the waiters ready to wait and the protectors ever-vigilant for any potential threat to their King and Queen. Midday sun lit the streets and rooftops below and the beach, harbor and sea beyond with the squinting brightness of these temperate climes, but here in the shade of the ornate overhang, idyll calm held sway - the calm of momentous chances taken fruitfully, and further chances yet to be taken. This was Tratton's breather between gambits.

"It also helps," the Searat King went on, "that Voccola and Captain Margate have always gotten along well. Now, with one in the Governor's seat and the other in command of Fort Ballaster, we'll have a true working relationship between the military and ceremonial authority on Talaga. Together, they'll see to it that the fates of Martinoy and his family fade to a distant memory in the very near future. Their alliance should speed acceptance of the new order here on Talaga."

"Still, I'm surprised you didn't pick Kirkirt instead. He acquitted himself well during my voyage here, and, more importantly, he has a wife to tie him to Talaga. I'd have thought he'd be the obvious choice."

"Perhaps too obvious? Ever since his miraculous survival during the _Keelfang_ incident last summer, there's been a touch too much of the hero to him ... in the eyes of others, if not his own. I could picture the Governorship ending badly for him. Besides, I have other uses for him at the moment."

"You mean you want to keep him close to you, to keep a watchful eye on him."

"Let's just say I don't think he'll protest too much when he hears of his reassignment, even if it does mean leaving his beloved behind again."

Regelline raised an eyebrow. "You're sending the _Deeprunner_ out on another mission?"

"You will see in good time, my precious one." With a knowing smiled, Tratton regarded his royal consort. "You're still hardly showing. One might never guess you're even carrying."

"Demetria thinks it will most likely be a female. I hope you're not too disappointed, my dearest."

Tratton shrugged. "Malechild or female, it will still be my heir ... and I trust you to help me raise him - or her - to have the heart of stone and nerves of steel to rule in my stead after I am gone, and hold together what I have built."

Regelline shot him a searching glance. "Not planning on going away anytime soon, are we?"

"The life of a Searat King is a perilous and unpredictable existence. Playing it safe can be the most dangerous path of all, and every captain worth his salt knows the value of taking risks."

"Like the one you took this morning, meeting with a legion of berserker birds out for searat blood?"

"Hardly the risk it might appear, with so many of my soldiers at my back and the groundwork Torabi and Uroza's other envoys had laid in preparation for the summit. We promised Grabbrack too much for him to turn down, and I could tell from our very first exchange how his eyes gleamed with eagerness to get his hooked beak into Martinoy's heart. With that prize dangled before him to distract him, I was never in any real danger."

Regelline sipped at her rum punch, the strongest spirit Demetria would allow her. "Mmm - such a shame about their offspring, tho'."

"You know how it works in such situations, my fairest. Always best to end the bloodline entirely, and leave nothing to chance."

"Spoken by the rat who just lectured on the dangers of playing it safe."

"Let's just say I prefer to pick and choose my personal perils with utmost care." A shuffle of pawsteps and rustle of garments through the open doorway at the veranda's end made the two of them look up to see Talarek ushering Kirkirt out onto the covered balcony. "Ah, speaking of our brave captain, here he is now!"

Kirkirt seemed slightly ill at ease as Tratton rose to face him, Talarek retreating several paces to monitor the meeting with impassive alertness. The summoned officer felt he'd done a respectable job of delivering the Queen here to Talaga earlier this season, and of making himself available for her needs - not that she had made any requests of him at all, leaving him free to enjoy his shore leave as he wished. But now, in the wake of what had happened to the Governor's family, no rat on the island breathed easy as all waited to see whether the Searat King's latest purge would stop at one house, or expand to claim more victims.

"You requested my presence, Majesty?"

Tratton got right to business. "I am reassigning you, Captain. I have need of your services elsewhere, so I'm afraid your idyllic respite here ends tomorrow." With the ghost of a smile, he added, "I won't deprive you of one last night with your mate."

"That's ... appreciated, Sire. What's t' be my new assignment ... if I may ask?"

"You may. I am naming you captain of the _Darktide_."

"The ... _Darktide_, Majesty? Don't you mean th' _Darksky_? Now that Voccola's been promoted t' Governor, I just kinda figgered ... "

"Well, you 'figgered' wrong. Voccola's not going anywhere, and neither is the _Darksky_; time enough to name a new skipper for her, when events allow. My concern now lines with the _Darktide_."

"Ah. It's just ... well, you captained th' _Darktide_ in yerself, an' I was just assumin' you'd wanna take 'er out that way too, when time comes ... "

"Captain, you should know better by now than to try to anticipate what I mean to do."

Kirkirt stiffened. "Aye, Yer Majesty!"

"We sail on tomorrow's high tide, and I want you at the helm. For the voyage I have in mind, I deem you to possess certain qualities rendering you eminently suitable for the circumstances."

"We?" Kirkirt gulped. "Ye'll be sailing with us, Sire?"

"I will. The Queen speaks highly of your capability displayed during the crossing in the _Deeprunner_, and I will want no less for my own passage. The dockrats have been seeing to the _Darktide_'s resupply since my arrival yesterday, and I foresee no delays."

"Who'll be sailing with us?"

"The regular crew, of course, along with any of the sailors from the _Deeprunner_ you've grown accustomed to serving with, if you care to invite them. Plus my entire complement of Royal Guard."

This last part hardly surprised Kirkirt; obviously Tratton would not venture forth from Terramort to go anywhere without a sizable body of protectors sworn to safeguard him. Still, the Searat King had brought along a larger-than-usual contingent of these warrior-guards with him to Talaga - which also made sense, considering the peril-fraught negotiations undertaken with the bird savages of western Talaga - so if he was now departing with the full force he'd brought with him, that implied he either meant to return forthwith to Terramort ... or that he planned to sail for waters which might hold dangers equal to the cormorants.

"An' where will we be sailin', Majesty? If it ain't a secret, I mean ... "

"Oh, it's no secret - at least not to you." Kirkirt couldn't help noticing how Regelline leaned slightly forward in her wicker rattan chair to catch her royal counterpart's next words, clearly eager to hear them for herself ... nor could he fail to note her surprise at Tratton's reply, surprise equal to Kirkirt's own.

"We sail for Salamandastron."


	33. Chapter 105

**CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE**

"We're missing Trelayne's glassblowing demonstration, you know."

Mona shot Vanessa a bemused look as the vixen escorted the mouse into the Infirmary for the examination to which she'd finally consented. "Given what I've heard of your conduct during his last one, Abbess, I suspect Master Trelayne is just as happy not to have you there."

"Oh, pish. He knows I'd never do anything to so egregiously disrupt the festivities like that again! I'm a new mouse, take my word on it!"

Arlyn and Metellus had conceded to Vanessa's request to vacate the sick bay for the duration of this one-on-one exam, and with Turma and her newborn having recently been discharged as well, that left the convalescing hare Pumphrey and the Guosim shrew Mongak as the only other creatures occupying the long chamber. Slumbering soundly under the effects of a sleeping draught Vanessa had prepared for them earlier, they snoozed and snored sedately away against their pillows in two of the beds off to the left, so the two waking beasts chose a bed in the opposite row several spots down, to lessen the risk of disturbing them.

"Yes, you do seem vastly changed from the misfit you've been ever since the incident at Foxguard," Mona conceded, as the two of them sat down on the edges of adjacent beds, facing each other. "Which is precisely why I feel it's vital I have a look at you. But even in your present recovered state, I daresay your presence outside might have made Trelayne a tad nervous - or at the least distracted him, remembering what happened last time."

"Oh, I'm sure he's far too much a master of his craft to let anything like that intrude upon his concentration. But I was thinking more of you, Mona. I know you and Trelayne are very close, and I thought you might be disappointed at missing his demonstration yourself."

"Trelayne has been laboring at Foxguard for a large part of this season, and I have had ample opportunity to observe him at work there. And in the Northlands, where I first got to know him, he entertained me and others many times with his impressive artistic skills. I'm sure he's not doing anything down there right now that I've not seen him do a hundred times before. Now, if you would - "

"Did your sister ever see him work?"

Mona started at Vanessa in silence for some moments. "My sister did see some of Trelayne's masterpieces before the searats murdered her. But that is not what we're here to - "

"How did she die, anyway? I don't believe you've ever told us."

"It is a personal matter to me, Abbess, and a painful one at that. Now, please remove your habit."

"I beg your pardon?"

Mona showed surprise at her patient's surprise. "Now, Abbess, you knew what we were coming up here for. In order to perform a full physical, I will naturally need you to disrobe."

"A full physical? I thought it was only my head you were interested in."

"The brain might be the seat of the personality and intellect, but that organ rules and commands the entire body; as a healer yourself, you should be only too well aware of this. There are certain various reflexive tests I'll want to perform, and your habit will only be in the way." The vixen paused. "Perhaps, if the matter of modesty bothers you now that you once again serve as Abbess - because it certainly didn't before - I can wait while you go fetch a nightshirt for yourself?"

Vanessa toyed with her habit cord. "Oh, I don't think that will be necessary. I'll remove my robes - but only if you agree to take off your shirt and skirt as well."

This request struck Mona momentarily speechless. "But ... why?" she stammered upon finally regaining her voice.

"I'd feel more comfortable if you did ... if I wasn't the only beast sitting around in just her fur for this. It makes sense, don't you agree?"

"No, it doesn't. I need you to be ungarbed to properly examine you; I don't need to be ungarbed myself to conduct the examination."

Vanessa resolutely crossed her arms over her chest. "Those are my conditions. If you won't meet me halfway on this, I'll walk out of here right now, and we can just forget about the whole thing."

Mona chewed on this seemingly-frivolous ultimatum in frustration, then gave a conceding nod as she undid her skirt at the waist. "Very well ... and I'm almost tempted to consider this part of the exam, since this strikes me as far more the kind of request you'd have made before returning to your senses, when you were full of silly mischief." Carefully laying out her doffed skirt on her bed beside her, then pulling off her blouse and spreading it atop the first garment, she turned back to Vanessa with a wry smirk. "Just so you know, Tolar is the only one I usually do this for."

"I imagine." Vanessa undid her waistcord and lifted off her habit, leaving herself similarly unclad. "And how are things between the two of you these days?"

Mona gave the latest in her series of sour looks. "Once again, Abbess, I need to remind you that is not why we're here."

The mouse smiled demurely. "But if I'm placing myself in your paws, I'll want to be confident that you're entirely at ease, with nothing troubling you, won't I?"

Mona folded her paws in her lap against her white belly fur, her red tail swooped over her knees as if suddenly more self-conscious of her ungarbed state. "Why would I be troubled about anything to do with Tolar?"

"Well, you never have actually married him, have you? I haven't been so out of it these past three seasons to know that Geoff has offered on more than one occasion to perform an Abbey ceremony for you and Tolar, either here or at Foxguard. Why did you never take him up on that?"

"Our current arrangement suits us both just fine. We are not Redwallers. Now, hold still and let me look in each of your eyes."

"Of course." Vanessa relented from further questioning as Mona leaned forward to make her ocular inspection, coming so close that she actually had to turn her head slightly to avoid bumping noses with her patient.

"Look left. Look right. Left again. Now up. Now down. Now close your eyes. Keep them closed, please. Just a few moments more. Now open them and look into the brightness of the window. Very good."

"I hardly needed to doff my habit for _that_."

"I am not finished, Abbess. Now ... " Mona reached out and held her left paw up to Vanessa's right ear, very close, and snapped it sharply several times, then repeated the procedure with the right paw and left ear.

"Well, that was annoying," the mouse opined.

Mona maintained her clinical aloofness. "Have you noticed any ringing in your ears?"

"Only when the Matthias and Methuselah bells ring."

"Any other sounds, or pressure, or internal aching? Any spots before your eyes, blurriness of vision, painful sensitivity to bright light or night blindness?"

"No, no and no."

"Any unpleasant smells, or bad taste in the mouth? Any trouble detecting normal odors, or tasting your food and drink as you normally would?"

"Again, all no's. I hate to disappoint you, Mona, but I do think you're yipping up the wrong tree."

"Hmm." Mona touched Vanessa on the temple, gently but insistently probing around the three-seasons-old slingstone wound. "There's still a bump there, under the fur. Feels almost like the bone may have cracked, and not entirely knit back together quite right. Do you suffer any headaches, or general soreness or tightness in that area?"

"Not that I've noticed."

Frowning at her subject's cavalier tone, Mona said, "This only works if you're entirely truthful with me, Abbess."

"I honestly don't know what you want me to say. If I'd experienced any of the symptoms you've mentioned, I would have consulted Arlyn and Metellus about it long before this. And speaking of that young badger, are you planning to have him come study with you some more at Foxguard? I know he finds your tutelage most ... unorthodoxically instructive."

"He is of course welcome anytime he cares to visit. However, considering where things stand now in Mossflower, I think prudence might forestall any such excursions by Redwallers to Foxguard for the near term."

"How are things between Tolar and Custis currently?"

"They are just fine, Abbess. They've overcome any initial differences to work together closely in the interests of the present campaign. Both serve Lord Urthblood faithfully."

"Do you not deem the affair with Captain Matowick and Latura might renew tensions between them again?"

"I don't see why it would. Neither Tolar's swordfoxes nor the Gawtrybe stationed at Foxguard played any role in those events, before, during or after the fact. We have been quite busy with other things. But then, you've already heard all of this from Tolar."

"But not from you."

"I'm just a healer, and about the last creature you should be asking about political matters. Now, if we may continue ... " Mona reached aside and withdrew from the pocket of her doffed skirt a smooth oak wand. "Now, to test some of your reflexes ... "

The vixen tickled Vanessa's whiskers and eartips, taped lightly on elbows and wrist, stroked and poked along the tail in various places, had Vanessa lift each leg to run the short baton along each sole in turn and finally ended with the age-old tradition of having the mouse cross each leg over the other to tap below the knees.

"I still don't understand why you needed me to disrobe for any of this. Were there any other parts of me you wanted to poke and prod, or are we done?"

Mona sat back on her own bed, clutching her wand at the ends with both paws. "Tell me what happened when you returned to your senses, Abbess."

"What do you mean?"

"Did it happen all at once, like waking up from a deep sleep, or a dream? Or did it happen more gradually, over the course of part of a day, or even several days? Was it a continuous coming back to yourself, or did it come in spells, where you would remember who you were for a bit, and then forget again? And once you were fully recovered, how much could you remember of the time before?"

"It was Latura. You've surely heard that by now, or at least you should have. Her powers went far beyond seeing the future. The closer she got to Redwall, the more I remembered. And once she was here - and, more to the point, once she touched me - that was all I needed to fully return."

"Hmm. May I be frank, Abbess?"

"I would pray that you do so, Mona."

"I have spoken with a number of other Redwallers, ones who well remember you before your wounding at Foxguard, and they maintain that you are not entirely your old self at all. That you are different somehow. Changed. What do you say to that?"

"I can remember everything from the life I led before Foxguard, down to the smallest details and incidents which had grown dim in my memory. But as for my current demeanor, things do change, Mona. Did you expect me to emerge unaffected at all from such a prolonged period of trauma, even with Latura's assistance? Redwall needs me now, and I must be the leader these times demand."

"Ah. But I fail to see how even that ratmaid could account for what happened in this very Infirmary on the day she was stolen away. The slaying of those four rats holding Lady Mina hostage - that's something you should not have been capable of, from both a moral and a physical standpoint. How were you able to do such a thing - and how could you, given an Abbess or Abbot's pledge to pursue only the ways of peace?"

"I had a very good teacher - one who taught me a few lessons during my 'absence' about the exigencies of necessity."

"You speak of Martin?" Mona's question came off as one step short of disdainful.

"If you've been discussing my situation with other Redwallers, this should not come as news to you. Martin had a very definite paw in the events of this season, from helping to guide Latura to us to making it clear she'd not be able to remain here. I would not dismiss his role in this so quickly."

"I've no doubt the spirit of your founding Warrior did influence events here to some degree or other - but he was a fighter, not a healer. I am concerned here only with your physical state and well-being - with this world, not with the realm of ghosts."

"Then you are making a mistake; the two cannot be separated, at least not in this case. Do you really believe I'd be sitting here talking to you like this if not for Latura, and Martin?"

"I did not say that. But prophets cannot mend an injured brain with a touch, and ghosts cannot knit bone."

Vanessa stared hard at the vixen for many heartbeats. "You are going down the wrong path, my child. There is more to this world than we can see with our eyes, or touch with our paws. Your sister was right; you should not turn your back on your own unique talents, the ones you were born with that make you so much more than just an ordinary healer."

Mona gaped at Vanessa, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, before shuddering as if from a sudden chill. She stood, reached for her shirt and skirt, and hastily redressed as if in a hurry to cover up. Clasping the skirt band at her waist, she leaned in toward the mouse and said, in almost a snarl, "Stay out of my _mind_, Abbess!"

Vanessa responded with a calm, demure smile. "We all have our secrets, Mona. I'll not tell yours if you don't tell mine."

Mona's glare faded from affronted to mortified. "What happened to you, Abbess?"

"The same could be asked of you, my dear. But at least you've given me some inklings."

The vixen drew back, turned and strode toward the Infirmary door.

"Oh, and Mona?"

The shaken healer paused near the threshold, looking half-back over her shoulder.

"I must agree that these are not good times to be sending Metellus to Foxguard. I will have a word with him, and let him know that any further visits to study with you will have to be suspended for the time being."

Mona neither spoke nor nodded, facing forward again and striding out into the corridor. The mouse on the bed sighed and reached for her green habit.

00000000000

It was perfect.

The replacement figurine of Geoff had been the first piece crafted by Trelayne during that day's demonstration, finished with the deft alacrity and artistic flourish that was a hallmark of the marten glassmaker's work method. Once completed to the satisfaction of Trelayne and his audience, the miniature sculpture was placed in the annealing chamber built into the side of the main oven to properly cure while the artist moved on to other endeavors. Now, several hours later, as the spring sun dipped below the walltop and the first traces of evening shades began to assert themselves upon Abbey and grounds, Geoff returned to the kiln at Trelayne's bidding to collect his prize. A few moments outside the annealing chamber exposed to the outside air was all the time needed to cool the figurine enough to safely touch it, and soon thereafter the former Abbot could be seen walking across the lawns toward the main Abbey, deep in contemplative amazement as he marveled at the tiny representation of himself cradled so gingerly in his paws. So intent was he upon this miracle of glass that he barely noticed the group of exercising Long Patrol running through their routines as he passed by them off to his left.

This time, there'd been no bratty afflicted Abbess to spoil everything with one well-timed swipe of a malicious paw. This time, Trelayne's breathtaking artifice had survived its original creation and would endure to grace Geoff's private chambers for seasons to come.

Two-thirds of the way to the main building, excited shouts of alarm from the west ramparts made both Geoff and the hares pause and glance up.

"Bird! Bird! Bird coming in!"

For a moment a sense of dutiful action stirred in Geoff's breast. The alarm would not have been raised for any of the Sparra returning from their daily scout flights and foraging, nor for any local bird like a robin or swallow or thrush, so it must have been something out of the ordinary - either an unusual species or else one of Urthblood's winged servants, or a recognized hostile species like a crow or jackdaw. But Geoff took a deep breath and forced himself to quell such impulses. He was no longer acting Abbot, and Redwall had plenty of brave defenders to deal with anything like this - including the knot of attentive Long Patrol standing not twoscore paces from his own position. Still, curious to see what this was all about, he tarried rooted to his spot, the glass craftwork cradled in his protective paws as he gazed skyward.

The winged creature presently came into view above the west battlements, flapping and fluttering with such haphazard disarray that for a moment Geoff thought he must be looking at Highwing, the only bird he'd ever seen successfully fly in such a lopsided, twirling manner. But this was no Sparra, nor was it a bird unknown to the Redwallers.

"By my whiskers, it's Captain Saugus!" Geoff muttered to himself - and he needed no seasons of healer's training to realize that the owl clearly showed distress, and was most likely injured.

The walltop lookouts, cast into uncertainty by the owl's state, raised no weapon against him as Saugus cleared the wall and entered the Abbey airspace - and the next thing Geoff knew, the Northland bird was spiralling down out of the sky, apparently out of control, headed straight for him.

Geoff made it exactly two steps in a panicked attempt at a dodge before Saugus crashed right on top of him. Hardly a great owl, Saugus nevertheless weighed nearly twice what Geoff did, and the impact drove the mouse forward into the ground. Geoff felt the soft concussion as he slammed belly-first against the lawn, along with a sharp, uncomfortable jabbing into his chest. And, as if from a far distance, the sound of a muted, snapping, breaking sound reached his ears.

But this was no attack, that much became obvious immediately as Saugus rolled off Geoff and continued to flap around on the grass in pain, panic or both. Geoff found himself being pulled up to his footpaws by a hare at either arm, while others took up a defensive formation encircling the stricken owl, ready to act against him if he displayed any hostile intent.

"Abbot, sir, are you all - aw, strippled whiskers, look wot's happened!"

Geoff glanced down at his paws; somehow, through all of this, he'd succeeded in holding onto the glass figurine Trelayne had presented him - except now, the wondrous artifact lay in his clutches in several cracked pieces, softly shattered by his fall upon it. And if it was not quite the thorough job of total destruction Vanessa had wrought upon the previous statuette, it was still damaged beyond repair, and no longer recognizable as anything which had once resembled a mouse.

A sad, wan smile came to Geoff's face. "Maybe I'm just not meant to have one of these .. "

"Not wot I'm talkin' 'bout, Abbot sir. You're bleedin' - that glass's cut into you."

Startled at this observation, Geoff glanced down at the breast of his brown habit, and saw several tiny spots of blood staining the garment where the shattered fragments had penetrated the fabric. "Oh dear ... I wouldn't even have realized ... "

Gallatin stepped in to take over the situation. "Right, we're gettin' you up to the Infirmary, an' snappish, so Nessa can have a look at you an' make sure it's no more'n a flesh wound."

"Oh, it can't be serious," Geoff protested, his attention shifting to the downed Saugus. "It was just a tiny sculpture, it can't have gone very deep. Captain Saugus appears to be in far worse shape; I think he may be bleeding himself, and he's clearly lost feathers. I'd say he's been attacked!"

Gallatin leaned over the avian officer, his stern Long Patrol countenance uncolored of any traces of empathy. "That true, chappie? You been attacked?"

"Crows ... crows ... " Saugus managed to croak out. "Delivering message ... to Lady Mina ... ambushed ... "

"Ambushed, eh? Serves you bally right for wot you helped those deceitful Gawtrybe pull over on us. Guess your gull friends weren't around t' save your feathered, worthless hide, wot?"

"Happened ... out over ... Plains. No gulls ... nearby ... "

Gallatin's gaze dropped to the message tube strapped around the owl's leg. "Well, let's see wot this's all about then, shall we?" He reached for the cylinder, but Saugus regrouped his faculties enough to lash out at the hare with talon and beak.

"No! For Lady Mina only! Lord Urthblood's orders!" Then, seemingly exhausted by this momentary display of resistance, Saugus fell back on the grass, quivering and looking not entirely aware of where he was.

Gallatin gestured to Telemaque and Baxley, who stepped forward, one clamping the owl's bill shut with both paws and the other immobilizing the bird's legs while Gallatin bent down to remove the communique from the talon. "We've had enough bloody secrets back an' forth 'tween Urthblood an' his Mossflower minions this season, an' each one's led to worse trouble than the last. Won't be any more under my watch, you just watch."

Saugus struggled anew, fixing the recently-promoted hare captain with a baleful glare, but Baxley and Telemaque held him fast.

"Captain, I must protest!" Geoff shouted. "This is no way to treat an injured visitor to our Abbey!"

"Now now, Abbot, it's hardly as if he's welcome here after the events of this season, wot? Now, let's just see what this latest scheme's about, shall we?" Gallatin twisted off the end cap of the message tube and withdrew the furled parchment from within.

Saugus twisted anew, and managed to liberate his beak. "No! No! For Lady Mina only! Her eyes only!"

"Oh, hush now, featherbottom, an' don't go gettin' your dander in a dander." As other creatures, including some of the swordfoxes, drifted toward the scene to see what was going on, Gallatin unrolled the message and read it.

A mere three dozen words decorated the scroll, but Gallatin needed to read them all three times to fully absorb their significance.

"Well, wot's it say, sah?"

Gallatin rolled the parchment tightly again. "Tells, Bax, get the Abbot up to the Infirmary. Rest of you, keep a double guard 'round this beaky Abbey crasher, an' make sure he doesn't go anywhere. This is serious."

"And I'm serious too," Geoff insisted. "I'm not going anywhere until Captain Saugus is properly tended to. I want us both taken up to the Infirmary together! And I don't care what was in that message!"

"You will." Gallatin sighed, deliberating. "Very well. Hares, take 'em both up to the sick bay, But keep a sharp eye on that bird, an' a sharp ear out for anything he tries to tell our resident squirrel queen - or the Abbess, either."

"Um, yes, sah! Cap'n, sah!"

As his underlings shifted themselves to carry out his orders, Gallatin raced off to find Colonel Clewiston, or Traveller. Or, ideally, both.

00000000000

Geoff, always a tad prissy about matters of modesty going back to his novice days, insisted that Arlyn and Metellus see to his chest lacerations, leaving Vanessa to tend to the injured Saugus two beds down, the owl occupying the blanket-covered mattress in an unruly sprawl.

The quartet of hare escorts now stood clustered around the owl's bed, long ears cocked to pick up any statements of interest from the Northlands avian.

Vanessa shot them an irate glance as she and her helpers ministered to Saugus. "Do you mind? This is an Infirmary, not a prison cell, and we're trying to work here."

"Sorry, Abbess ma'am, but Cap'n Gallatin's orders. We're t' be on paw in case he pops off with anything incriminatin', don'tcha know."

"Incriminating in what way?"

"Guess we'll know it if we hear it, won't we? But this one was carryin' a private message for Lady Mina, an' Cap'n thought we've had quite enuff of those this season."

"On that at least I would agree. Where is the message now?"

"Cap'n seized it, ma'am. Threw this beakbuster into a right old tizzy when he did so, too."

"Well, what did it say?"

"Dunno. But Cap'n Gallatin thought it was important enuff to run off with it - going to show it to th' Colonel, I s'pose."

Vanessa sighed and turned back to her feathered patient. "If it's anything the rest of us Abbey leaders ought to know about, I trust he'll inform us in good time. Until then, this owl demands my attention."

Two beds away, the disrobed Abbot received the twin attentions of his fellow malebeasts, Arlyn and Metellus taking turns winnowing through his white chest fur to inspect the cuts underneath. The area had been gingerly washed clean and the wounds didn't seem to be bleeding much anymore, but the two healers wanted to make absolutely certain of things.

"I certainly don't think any of these will require stitches," the elder Abbot reported. "They all seem fairly shallow, and superficial. It appears you landed atop your sculpture right in the center of your breastbone, which must be what broke it so thoroughly, even upon the lawn. But you were very lucky in that regard; half a paw's width farther over, hit at just a slightly different angle, and one of the larger shards could very easily have pierced you far deeper ... maybe even to your heart."

Geoff's eyes widened in alarm at this very notion. "Why, that hadn't even occurred to me. Do you really think ... I mean, the hares who helped me up seemed a lot more concerned about my state than I was ... "

"I think Abbot Arlyn is right, sir," Metellus seconded. "You dodged an arrow this time, and you're very lucky it wasn't worse. I don't even see any glass fragments or splinters stuck in any of these cuts, and that cold have been a serious complication too. Although the daylight coming in these windows isn't as bright as it could be, this late in the day. I'd really like to have a lamp to examine the areas more closely - and a magnifying lens would help too."

"I'll leave that to you, since your young eyes are so much better than my tired old orbs." Arlyn rose from his seat. "One moment, and I'll fetch the lens and lamp for you."

Meanwhile, Vanessa needed no lamp nor lens to conduct her examination of Saugus; the patterns of disarray in his plumage clearly showed where hostile beaks had struck to do their damage, and where feathers had been pulled clear out of the flesh altogether. Delicately working her way through the avian coat to locate and inspect each wound for treatment, the Abbess addressed the owl's hurts with painstaking thoroughness, her helpers supplying her on demand with daubs of ointment and salves and healing poultices to be applied according to the needs of each bruise, pluck and piercing.

"At least you don't seem to have suffered any broken bones," Vanessa told Saugus, "although if you had I suppose you'd not have reached us at all. Fractures and breaks are always especially tricky to treat in birdfolk; our Sparra leader flies lopsidedly to this day from a wing break endured as a chick. I'm glad we didn't have to put you down."

"Ha ha," Saugus responded entirely without humor.

"You say it was crows who attacked you? No other birds?"

"Only crows."

"Most curious. And where did this take place again?"

"Out in the Plains, Abbess, as I've said."

"Must have been quite far out into them, not to have been seen from our walltop. I'm surprised you were still able to fly all that way after being attacked in such a manner."

"I had my message to deliver to Lady Mina. Lord Urthblood impressed upon me it was most urgent."

"And what was the nature of that message?"

"I don't know. It was for the Lady's eyes only."

The waiting Long Patrol leaned in at this juncture, eager to hear whether anything suspicious might be about to be uttered, but they were bound to be disappointed, for all that they could tell.

"I'm sure she'll be getting her message in good time, once we've all had a chance to look at it to satisfy ourselves of its innocence. I'm sure she'll also be up here in even better time to hear whatever news you can tell us of Alexander - a subject I too, along with every other Redwaller, am most curious to hear about."

"Alexander is a guest of Salamandastron, free to leave whenever he pleases. He fares well."

"Well, that is a relief. We were worried about him - just as we were worried about Latura. Just what kind of reception did Lord Urthblood give her? He went to an awful lot of trouble to get her."

"He dealt with the ratmaid as he saw fit."

"Oh? By sending her to sea, into Tratton's clutches?"

The owl's head swivelled around, Saugus regarding Vanessa with eyes wide in surprise. "How did you know that?"

The mouse's expression remained demure. "Oh, we have our sources, just as Urthblood does. Still, it does seem odd, after the lengths he went to to secure her ... " Two of the hares, equally curious as to how Vanessa could have known of such a thing, exchanged a few rapid whispers, prompting the Abbess to chide, "Now you know that's not polite. If you're going to display such poor manners to me and my patient, I would ask that you leave."

"Er, sorry, ma'am."

"Now, Captain, spread your wings as much as you are able, and let me get a better look at them."

Partly hidden as Vanessa was between the curtain of Saugus's extended flying limbs and the window, Mina and Mona almost failed to notice her as they marched into the Infirmary past Geoff, Arlyn and Metellus to head right for their avian ally. Spotting the Abbess behind the living drapery, each competed to be the first to speak with their most urgent business.

"Abbess, I must insist you stand aside and allow me to take over the treatment of Captain Saugus. I've treated a great many birds in the Northlands, no doubt many more than you have, and the Captain deserves my level of expertise."

"And I demand that you order Colonel Clewiston to release the message he seized from Captain Saugus! That dispatch was intended for me, and he had no right intercepting it! No right whatsoever!"

"Now now, Lady, no need to get your hackles up; I'm sure your message will be shared with you eventually - one way or the other. I would have thought you'd be more concerned about word regarding Alexander."

Mina reared back at this effective verbal slap. "Well, yes - yes, of course I am. Does the Captain bear such news?"

"He does. And Alex is fine, or so he says. I'll let the two of you discuss it more, once his healing needs are addressed. And no, Mona, I have everything well in paw, although you're more than welcome to check my work once I've finished, to make sure it meets your standards."

Mona too drew back at this verbal barb directed her way, although after her earlier encounter with Vanessa in this very chamber, she was not so quick as Mina to press her point or argue her case, and thus remained silent.

"Well, this is interesting," Vanessa observed, her delicately-probing paws working free from Saugus's disrupted wing feathers a quill which most certainly was not that of an owl. She held it up for her assistants to mark it with expressions of surprise. Saugus turned his head to see what had elicited such a reaction, but by then the Abbess had already stashed the foreign feather down the front of her habit and out of sight.

"What? What was it?"

Vanessa favored him with that maddening smile again. "Captain, are you sure there's not anything you'd like to tell us?"

"I ... don't know what you mean."

"Ah. Mona, I've changed my mind; please do take a look at the Captain's injuries for yourself. I've never seen crow's beak marks quite like these, and I'd value your opinion on the matter."

Saugus looked like he desperately wanted to tell the vixen something, but dared not in front of everybeast else. As Vanessa stepped back to give the other healer room to work, she murmured into the owl's ear hole, "Mona's not the only sly one around here. You'll find I can be as crafty as any fox - and far more resourceful!"

Even as Mona leaned in to inspect the bir'ds peck marks - those not already covered by poultices and bandages - the sound of the Matthias and Methuselah bells reached the ears of everybeast in the Infirmary. Vanessa cocked her head to take in the toll, then turned to the watching Long Patrols. "You hares have certainly wasted no time in raising the alarm. Just what is the Colonel up to?"

Telemaque gave a mystified shrug. "Couldn't say, ma'am. Cap'n Gallatin never did say wot was in that note he confiscated - just said t' keep a close eye on this feathery Abbot-smashin' nuisance, an' a sharp ear out for anything incriminatin' he might say."

"Captain Saugus has already incriminated himself, whether he intended to or not. Or perhaps I should say the physical evidence has done the incriminating for him."

Saugus glared at Vanessa with a mix of ire and despair, helpless to utter a word in his defense while Mona surveyed his wounds with mounting surprise. "The shape and pattern of these beak marks ... they don't look like ... "

Down on his own Infirmary bed, Geoff listened to the tolling himself in consternation, deciphering it a few moments after Vanessa did as Metellus scrutinized his chest with magnifier and lantern. "Why, that's the call to order for a general council of Abbey leaders!" the former Abbot and current Recorder declared. Glancing down toward Vanessa, he wondered, "Who could have called it? It doesn't appear it could have been Nessa, and it certainly wasn't me!"

"If it's for real and not just a false alarm or miscue, we should both be there." Arlyn regarded Geoff. "Are you feeling up to it?"

"I feel fine, mostly. A little bit sore, a little bit ... prickled, I suppose."

"I can't see any traces of glass in any of these cuts," Metellus informed the two mice. "Give me a few moments to dab some salve on the worst of them, and you should be all right to attend the council."

"It will mostly just be sitting anyway, I imagine," Geoff said as the young badger set to work on applying the tincture.

"And talking," Arlyn added with a smile.

"Although I don't get to do too much of that these days, since my demotion," Geoff went on. "Mostly just sit there and ... say, what's all that commotion outside?"

Vanessa, drawn by the noise from the corridor beyond, tore herself away from Saugus and Mona to stride the length of the Infirmary to the doorway, with Mina following at her heels upon glimpsing Clewiston lingering in the hall amongst a large knot of his fellow hares. Stopping before them just beyond the portal, the mouse lightly demanded, "Why have you called a council of Abbey leaders, Colonel?"

"How'd you know it was me, marm?"

"Because it couldn't have been me or Geoff, and it didn't seem like the kind of thing Maura or Winokur would do. And with Alexander and Montybank both away, that narrowed it down a bit."

Mina, staring over Vanessa's shoulder, took note of the parchment clutched in Clewiston's paw. "Colonel, is that the message you intercepted from Captain Saugus? I must demand that you give it to me at once!"

Clewiston regarded the Gawtrybe Lady with no trace of frivolity. "Do you have any idea what it says, ma'am?"

"Not a clue. But it was addressed to me, and I want to see it. Now."

"No you don't."

Geoff, adjusting his habit around him as he and Arlyn came up behind Vanessa, asked, "What's going on here? Who called a council?"

"That was me, old bean - an' glad I am to see you back on your paws an' none the worse for wear, apparently. We'll need you to take the Abbot's chair again, at once."

As the others looked on in stunned silence at this proclamation, the armed Long Patrol closed in to encircle Vanessa at a signal from Clewiston.

"Don't try anything funny, Abbess - or whoever you are. I'm placing you under arrest, in the name of Redwall!"


	34. Chapter 106

**CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SIX**

It was a twin tribunal in Cavern Hole, with Vanessa and Clewiston seated against each other at opposite ends of the long table. But if the mouse still held the Abbess's chair - at least for the moment - the Colonel obviously held himself as the superior authority here, content to let Vanessa's place of prominence serve as her interrogation seat, so that the onus of explaining herself might fall squarely and symbolically upon her before all watching eyes and listening ears.

The owners of those eyes and ears included Maura and Winokur, both of whom had dutifully responded to the toll Clewiston had ordered Cyril and Cyrus to sound, as well as Elmwood, sitting in for the absent Alexander. Geoff and Arlyn had followed the arrested Abbess and her hare captors down from the Infirmary, Vanessa coming along peacefully, an almost bemused air about her. Half a dozen Long Patrol now surrounded the Abbess's chair as the council got underway, hemming her in as if she were a dangerous criminal who might explode into violence at any moment.

One figure more held a seat at the table. Lady Mina, pointedly excluded from all the Abbey's recent consultations due to her underpawed actions against the rat refugees - and on the verge of being expelled from Redwall for that very reason - had been about to argue most vehemently for her inclusion here when the Colonel amazed her by specifically requesting her presence as well. He'd not come right out and declared her under arrest too, nor had the Long Patrol afforded her the same alert attention directed toward Vanessa, but she was left with the impression that Clewiston would have made sure she was here for this - one way or the other.

With everybeast settled in, Maura took charge before any official proceedings could begin. "Colonel, is there any reason our Abbess appears to be under arrest?"

"Because she jolly well is." Clewiston twiddled the confiscated message parchment in his paws. "An' you may wish to think twice before addressin' her by that title again."

Maura and Winokur traded concerned glances. "And on what grounds do you do this?" the otter Recorder asked the Long Patrol commander.

Traveller, seated alongside Clewiston, answered, "New evidence has come to our attention - evidence we'll be sharin' with all of you here." The old hare's gaze went to Vanessa. "Evidence the Abbess here will be hard-pressed to explain away, 'specially in light of her recent actions, tho' I'd enjoin her to try."

"Colonel," Mina impatiently implored, "what did that message say?"

He fixed her with a glare fit to freeze summer rainwater. "You honestly don't know?"

"No," she responded tersely, "because you intercepted it, improperly and without cause!"

"Oh, there was cause, all right. An' if you truly are without a bally clue, I'll be very interested in seeing your reaction - and whether you can shed any light on it. Or talk your way out of it, for that matter."

Mina bristled. "Am I being accused of something, Colonel?"

"At the moment, nothing more than what we already know you're guilty of regardin' Lattie. Whether those charges are expanded depends on wot comes out here, doesn't it?"

"This all sounds very serious," said Arlyn, taking the lead for Geoff, who was still getting over his sculpture wounds. "I think you need to tell us what's going on here - or what you think is going on."

"Yes, Colonel," Vanessa agreed, speaking for the first time. "If this evidence you claim to have against me is so damning, go ahead and let us hear it. I can only say that my own curiosity is now most piqued."

Clewiston passed the parchment to Traveller, who rose and walked the length of the table to give it to Vanessa. As he did so, the Colonel said, "I'd like you to read that dispatch aloud, Abbess, so that everybeast can hear it loud an' clear. An' do keep in mind it's already been seen by me, the Field Marshall, Captain Gallatin an' several others of the Patrols, so we'll know if you deviate from wot's written there. Oh, an' we took the liberty of scrawlin' out a copy too, in case it entered your mind to tear it to shreds before anybeast else can see it. So, no trickery, wot?"

Mina bristled anew. "Colonel, that message was intended for my eyes only! You had no right showing it around to your hares like a naughty schoolbeast's classroom note! Nor to demand my private correspondence be aired openly before this council! I protest!"

Clewiston regarded the Gawtrybe Lady with a look which clearly let her know he considered himself in charge here. "Keep protesting, an' I'll only be able to conclude you're a part of it after all."

"Part of _what_?!"

A chuckle from the opposite end of the table drew Clewiston's gaze Vanessa's way. "You find something amusing about all this, marm?"

Vanessa sat looking down at the note she'd just read, having taken it from Traveller as the old hare returned to his seat alongside Clewiston. She shook her head slowly, as if absorbing the most preposterous thing to be sprung on her in many a season.

"Not so much amusing as absurd, Colonel. I'd sensed an attack coming our way from Urthblood's quarters, but I did not expect anything like ... this." Vanessa rattled the parchment with a distinct rumple. "It's actually most ingenious, in its own way."

Clewiston's eyes narrowed. "Is that what you're calling it - an attack?"

"Of course. And I suspect Lady Mina is quite mistaken in her assertion that this was meant for her eyes only. I think this communique found its way into exactly the paws Urthblood intended - and that it is producing precisely the results he wanted. Some accusations, once made, are very difficult to counter, even if they are entirely false. Are you absolutely certain you wish to proceed with this, Colonel?"

"Read the message, Abbess. Word. For. Bally. Word."

"As you wish - although cleaning up this mess might take some doing." Vanessa dropped her gaze to the parchment and recited the words upon it in a loud, unwavering tone.

_"Lady Mina,_

_The Abbess is my tool, an extension of my pure will. I control her_

_completely. Follow her lead, and do as she says in all matters._

_Destroy this note, and share this with no other._

_Lord Urthblood"_

No silence more shocked, stunned or complete had ever settled over any assemblage at Redwall. Arlyn, Geoff, Elmwood and Mina sat staring at the calm Abbess with eyes agog and jaws slack, while Maura and Winokur studied Vanessa with amazement and alarm equal to that of the others, if somewhat different in nature. Only the hares, already aware of the note's content, looked on with a coolness to match Vanessa's, although theirs was a predatory attitude of accusation - and battle-readiness - rather than the pragmatic self-possession exuded by the mouse holding the Abbess's chair.

"Do you deny it?" Clewiston demanded.

"Of course I deny it. And I must say I am more than a little insulted at being painted as so much less than I really am - and by the fact that you seem so ready and willing to swallow this hornswoggle without critically examining it."

"Oh, we've examined it, all right, you can jolly well believe me on that one. Had ourselves a lively little debate downstairs when Gallatin presented this evidence to us. An' I must say, once I read it, a whole lot that hadn't been makin' one bally lick o' sense suddenly became clear as day, an' all the puzzle pieces fell inta place oh so neatly. Do you really need me to elaborate, marm?"

Vanessa steepled her paws to her chin as if observing an interesting experiment. "Do go on. This should prove most ... illuminating."

"Not sure why you're feeling so sure of yourself, since there's not a beast at Redwall unaware of how different you are from the Nessa of old we all respected, revered an' trusted. Ever since Lattie got snatched, you've been throwin' your weight around more like a tyrant than an esteemed Redwaller, an' brandishin' your authority with a heavy paw less like an' Abbess an' more like an Emperor ... or, dare I say it, a Badger Lord?"

Vanessa's bemused air did not falter. "I have known many badgers in my time - but I have never been one myself."

"Funny, I seem to recall you paintin' your face fur up in black and white stripes an' proclaimin' otherwise just earlier this season. Or does the name 'Urthnessa the Bold' fail t' ring any bally bells for you? We've not forgotten that little masquerade, much as you might wish we had."

Now Vanessa's expression did sour, although it was hardly the panic of a creature caught in a lie. "Yes, in light of this present accusation, that does in retrospect loom as an unfortunate choice of fursona I could have adopted for myself. But I assure you that was just a bit of play to win Percy and leverets over to my cause. Given their own unique familial histories, I felt they'd respond best to a pretend badger than any other species."

"Then again, maybe it wasn't a masquerade at all, but a little bit of th' truth tryin' to work its way into the bloomin' daylight, wot? An' now that you've brought it up, marm, let's just talk about exactly wot that cause of yours was that you recruited our own young ones to be part of. Wot was that again? Oh, yes - causin' th' biggest blinkin' commotion this Abbey's ever seen to get all us defenders distracted, driven indoors an' tied up in knots, an' then lurin' Lattie right outta the Abbey so the Gawtrybe could get 'er. Now, you can go back to invokin' the name of Martin all you want an' sayin' how the only sensible thing to do was let those villains haul her away, but that note there before you offers a far more plausible explanation for all this. You weren't doing Martin's bidding; you were doing Urthblood's. Which is why he ended up getting exactly wot he wanted."

"My reasons for surrendering Latura were exactly as I have stated them previously - along with one other. Urthblood got what he _thought_ he wanted - but if he'd gone through with his intended plan, he would have been in for a rude surprise indeed. And we'd all be free of him now."

"Ah. Back to that whole ploy about how givin' him Lattie was the best way to make sure she hurt him, are we? But how would you have known any of that? An' for that matter, how did you know in the Infirmary just now that His Bloodiness gave Lattie over to Tratton? The owl confirmed it was true, an' seemed surprised at your knowledge of events so far from here. Or should I say, far from here ... but not from Urthblood."

Vanessa's expression twisted into an acerbic frown. "Oh, and I'm sure I would have given myself away like that, if I truly was Urthblood's zombie. The very fact I did so works against your accusation, Colonel."

"Not necessarily. You hadn't read the note, so you wouldn't have known not to give yourself away - precisely the kind of arrogance one might expect from that badger."

Vanessa's expression turned playful again. "Glug glug glug!"

While several of the others at the table stared at her as if she'd reverted to her state of juvenile madness again, the Colonel's accusatory glare remained severe. "An' wot's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"That, Colonel, is the sound of that particular argument sinking like a stone dinghy ... to use one of Monty's favorite expressions."

"How so?"

Vanessa nodded at the parchment. "If that message were true, I wouldn't have had to read it to know what it said, since I would have been the one who sent it."

Winokur and Maura both seemed lifted by this riposte, as if keeping mental score and awarding that point to Vanessa, whom they considered the home favorite. Clewiston merely wrinkled his whiskers, grudgingly conceding this small detail.

"Wotever. It still doesn't explain the biggest issues. Your personality change. Your assistance in helping Urthblood get Latura. Your Urthnessa business. And I've not even gotten to the most damning of all: Those four rats you took down in the Infirmary. The only living witness swears you moved like nobeast who's ever lived, or wielded steel, cutting them down where they stood before they could lift a paw in defense. Overlooking the bally fact that the Vanessa we all knew an' cherished never would have considered committing such a cold-blooded bit of mayhem, there's no bloomin' way she _could_ have done it, even if she'd wanted to. Only one beast I can think of who could swing a blade like that, so makes sense his puppet would be able to as well, wot?"

"Actually, Colonel, I can think of two, at least. Urthblood's not the only Warrior Mossflower has ever seen - and not all of them have been badgers, either."

"Ah. So we're goin' back to Martin again, are we?" Clewiston's voice held dismissive disdain.

"Yes, it does rather all come back around to him, doesn't it? Do I at least get the courtesy of presenting evidence in my own defense, before you pass whatever judgment you have in mind for me?"

"Only punishment I had in mind was exposin' you for wot you really are - and, of course, gettin' you booted out of that chair so a real Redwaller can take charge 'round here again, don'tcha know."

"Fair enough. Would somebeast please go fetch Captain Saugus, Sister Jimmery and Sister Hazelton from the Infirmary? Oh, and Mona too, if she's still up there?"

"But, Saugus is injured," said Arlyn.

"Not so badly that he'll have any trouble getting down here under his own power. All his wounds were superficial; he's not in any danger at all. Which, in itself, is telling, after after his horrible run-in with those ruthless crows. And if I'm fully to defend myself, I deserve a chance to face my accusers - all of them."

One of the hares was dispatched to summon the requested witnesses, while Clewiston's eyes never left Vanessa. "This had better not be any kind of trick."

"On the contrary, Colonel, their presence will help refute the trick that's been played on _you_."

"Oh, I dunno, marm. I'm a pretty canny hare to pull a fast one on, an' not too easy to hoodwink. So, if that's wot you've got in mind ... "

"I intend nothing of the sort. I just find it ironic that, for seasons now, you and the Long Patrol have shouted from the walltops to anybeast who would listen that Urthblood was our enemy and must someday attack us - and now that he actually has, you refuse to see it for what it is." Vanessa waved the parchment before her. "Which is more farfetched: that Urthblood is controlling me from such a distance, so absolutely and completely, and even now speaks with my voice through some feat of supreme sorcery unprecedented in all the lands - or that he's simply lying, as he has so often in the past, as he did when he used Redwall as bait in his feud with his brother, as you yourself have accused him of doing over and over again. We all know the lie has always been one of Urthblood's favored weapons, wielded with deft effect when he sees the need. Doesn't it make far more sense that this message is the liar, not me - and if that becomes the case, look at the damage this lie has already caused."

"Almost persuasive, marm - except that if he _is_ talking through you now, nothing you say is to be believed, is it?"

"And if he's _not_ controlling me, you've played right into his paw, made yourself his lackey every bit as much as you accuse me of being, and botched things up royally." Vanessa glanced at the Gawtrybe squirrel at the table. "Meanwhile, poor Lady Mina here looks like her brain is about to explode, if it hasn't already. Have you anything to add to this discussion, Lady?"

Mina's jaw worked for several moments before any words emerged. "Can ... can it be ... true?"

"I've already said that it's not."

"Then ... I don't know what to believe."

"You and most of Redwall, once this spreads through the Abbey. And thus does Urthblood win this round, without firing a shot or deploying a single fighter to our gates, even if I do succeed in exonerating myself here. But, perhaps he will not have it all his own way in this after all. Let me finish making my case, and then we'll see what may be salvaged of this situation."

Presently, the hare returned, escorting the two sisters, the waddling Saugus and the trepidatious Mona down the steps into Cavern Hole. "Maura," Vanessa requested, "may I impose upon you to let Captain Saugus have your seat while I speak with him? I think that would makes things easier, and he can more comfortably spread out in your oversized chair than he could in any of ours."

"Of course, Abbess." The Badger Mother stood and stepped back while Saugus climbed up into the vacated seat where Vanessa beckoned him to sit, Mona and the two Infirmary mice standing attentively at his side.

"So, Captain," Vanessa began, "you say you were sent here by Lord Urthblood, to deliver this note to Lady Mina, and no other?"

The owl appeared, if not literally ruffled, then at least figuratively so. "Yes, as I have said, those were my orders. Why have I been called down here, instead of being allowed to recover from my ordeal in my bed?"

Vanessa ignored his question. "That you were sent here by Urthblood, that much I believe. But are you sure you want to stick with the rest of that story?"

Saugus threw up a bluster of affront to hide his edginess. "It is as I've said! I was instructed to deliver that message to Lady Mina, and no other!"

"Then you failed rather miserably in your mission, if that's the case. But since I can neither prove nor disprove your statements in this regard, let us move on to something where the evidence is a little more solid. Tell us more about these crows who attacked you."

Saugus fidgeted in Maura's seat. "They may have been ravens," he amended.

"Couldn't you tell? You're a bird yourself, and it was broad daylight, after all."

"I was under attack, Abbess! My main concern was getting away from them with my life! I can hardly be taken to task for not stopping to take careful note of which species of black birds they were!"

"Yes, those 'black birds' certainly did a job on you, didn't they? And yet their treatment was not so harsh that they kept you from reaching Redwall. Either that was a miraculous escape you pulled off, or else they were particularly inept as marauders." Vanessa looked to the vixen "You've had a chance to examine these wounds yourself, Mona. What was your impression of them?"

Mona worked her paws against each other. "I'm ... I'm not sure what you want me to say, Abbess."

"You implied earlier that you've treated your share of birds over the seasons, serving as chief healer for Urthblood's forces up north before coming to Mossflower. Did these look like crow - or raven - marks to you?"

Mona and Saugus locked gazes for an instant, the owl wordlessly imploring her to answer as he might wish. "No," she replied. "No, they did not."

"Ah. I suspected your unique expertise might come in useful here. So tell us, do the Captain's injuries resemble anything you've encountered in your experience?"

"Yes," Mona said as Saugus glared daggers at her.

"And?"

"There's one species I've encountered whose beaks are designed to allow the bill to flex upward. That, combined with the shape of the tip, leave a fairly distinctive mark - marks of the sort I saw on Captain Saugus."

"And what species would that be, Mona?"

She hesitated the barest instant. "Seagulls, Abbess."

Sisters Hazelton and Jimmery lightly gasped at this revelation, for reasons the others had yet to fully appreciate.

"Thank you, Mona. Now, as I was treating Saugus myself, what should I find tangled in some of his back feathers but a plume, fairly large and distinctive, which was clearly not one of his own. The way it was embedded leaves no doubt that it could only have come from one of his alleged attackers. Sister Jimmery and Sister Hazelton witnessed this, and can attest that I pulled it from the Captain's mussed plumage just as I claim. And I happen to have that very feather with me right now."

As the other Abbeybeasts looked on with rapt attention, Vanessa reached down the front of her habit and withdrew a large feather, holding it out for all to see. The feather displayed unmistakable hues of white and gray, and was clearly from neither crow nor raven.

She fixed a superior gaze upon the owl. "Black birds you say, Captain?"

Mina joined Vanessa in turning a demanding gaze the owl's way. "Captain, what is going on here? Was that message meant for me or not? I insist that you answer truthfully!"

Saugus's expression by now was nearly mortified, clearly the attitude of a creature openly caught in a lie and yet unable to admit it. "The message was for you and you alone, Lady. I am only following Lord Urthblood's orders, you must understand."

Mina continued to look agitated and confused in her frustration, perhaps catching the veiled subtext of the owl captain's reply, and perhaps not.

"Obviously," Vanessa picked up, "your attackers were seagulls. Now, the last that any of us were aware, all the gulls between here and the coast are under Lord Urthblood's command. Normally, this would leave only one possible explanation: That Urthblood, for whatever reason, sought to waylay you, to prevent you from reaching Redwall and delivering your message, and sent his gulls to stop you. Which still wouldn't explain why they failed at their task, since I imagine they must be very good at such things - as we found out ourselves when our rescue party going after Latura ran into them.

"The contents of your message, however, casts the situation in an entirely different light, and leads to a very different conclusion. You were indeed attacked, by gulls and not crows - but that attack was staged, at Urthblood's orders and with your willing participation, so that you could convincingly arrive at Redwall in the manner you did. I find it most telling that, of all the creatures occupying our grounds - including a sizable contingent of Tolar's swordfoxes, who certainly would have made sure your message reached Mina without delay - you instead landed a stone's throw away from a troop of drilling Long Patrol hares, who were all but guaranteed to intercept that very same message - and to react to it just as they have."

Vanessa's unflinching gaze locked onto Clewiston at the far end of the table. "You were set up, Colonel - and you fell for it, hook, line and sinker."

Clewiston and Traveller, looking totally thrown by this development, leaned in to each other and commenced a rapidfire, whispered conversation. Saugus, meanwhile, sent up another round of protest. "No, Abbess, it is not true! I was sent to deliver the message to Lady Mina! It was for her eyes alone, and no others!"

"You address me as Abbess, even though your message states I am no such thing. Which is it, Captain?" Vanessa turned to the two Infirmary mice. "Sister Jimmery, Sister Hazelton, please convey Saugus back upstairs and help him get settled into his bed again. He is incapable of speaking the truth here even if he wanted to, and will add nothing more to our council."

As the two sisters nodded and escorted the flustering Saugus up out of Cavern Hole, Vanessa looked to the vixen. "Thank you for coming, Mona. Your testimony here has proven most helpful. Please wait outside with your fellow foxes while we conclude our session here."

"Abbess, if it's all the same, I'd like to remain to hear the rest of this discussion. I'm not even entirely sure what is going on here. Why was Captain Saugus insisting he was attacked by crows? Why would he and Lord Urthblood stage an attack with the gulls? And who says you're not Abbess?"

"That's what we must straighten out now - which makes this Redwall business, as I'm sure you'll understand. Now, please wait outside, Mona."

Grudgingly, the healer vixen withdrew from the chamber while Maura reclaimed her seat next to Vanessa. The Abbess stared down the table's length at Clewiston. "Well, Colonel? Do you concede this changes things from your original, and rather hasty, conclusion?"

"Not quite yet, marm. It's all well an' good that you got our two fine sisters and that vixen to come down and support your tale, but how are we to know you didn't bewitch 'em upstairs while nobeast was looking, so that they'd say precisely wot you wanted 'em to say?"

"If I were capable of _that,_ Colonel, you may as well ask why I didn't just hypnotize Captain Saugus to get him to confess to what I wanted him to? It's far easier to make somebeast forget something that's happened than to make them remember something that never did. And besides, where would I have gotten this gull feather from? You think I carry them around with me in case of gull feather emergencies?"

"Wouldn't put it past you ... "

Arlyn spoke up then. "Colonel, I happened to be looking Vanessa's way when she drew that feather out of Saugus's plumage, and I can attest that it happened as she has said. And I was at the other end of the Infirmary at the time, so I trust I can safely say she did not bewitch _me_."

"I have presented my evidence, and called witnesses in my defense to support my claims. And since all the Abbey defenders are here right now, we might as well hold a quorum, to see where everybeast stands." Vanessa turned to Geoff and Arlyn. "Let's start with our two former Abbots. You've heard the Colonel voice his suspicions based on this note sent by a creature known for underpawed duplicity, and you've heard me refute this accusation, catch the messenger in a bald falsehood, and state my case. Do I really strike you as some mindless husk being manipulated by some far and foreign alchemy?"

Geoff had clearly been formulating his thoughts during the course of this entire inquisition. "Well, Nessa, you do bring up Urthblood's underpawed duplicity - and what would be more duplicitous than taking control of Redwall's Abbess and seeking to influence or even control the highest levels of our decision-making processes? That being said ... no, I do not believe it, and not just because I don't want to. Urthblood has been behind many fantastic things, but this is just too fantastic, even for him. There's an old saying that if you are presented with two different explanations for the same event, always go with the simpler of the two. And as you yourself said earlier, it's far more believable that Urthblood's note is a lie than that he's working magic on the level that it suggests. He may be capable of a great many things which lie beyond our ordinary understanding, but I very much doubt he's capable of _that_."

"And I would agree with Geoff," said Arlyn. "I too would find it too fantastic to credit. That it represents some manner of attack seems far more likely ... although that begs a question all its own. It seems rather ... well, personal. As if his gripe is more with you than with Redwall as a whole."

Vanessa pursed her lips. "If he now sees Redwall as a legitimate adversary, it makes sense that undermining my authority could sow the kind of distrust and lead to the kind of disruption in our leadership that he might relish. It fits a certain kind of logic, viewed through Urthblood's lens on the world."

"Except," Clewiston pounced, "his message to Mina clearly states he controls the 'Abbess' of Redwall - not the 'Abbot.' How would he know you'd even come back, marm, an' that Geoff wasn't still in the Abbot's chair? Or are you just going to chalk that up to his blinkin' prophetic vision, an' sweep it neatly under the rug along with all the other inconvenient questions you'd prefer not to address head-on?"

"No, Colonel, I'm going to chalk it up to Alex, who undoubtedly told Urthblood of my return upon reaching Salamandastron. You were there with him in the Western Plains when I sent the Sparra out to recall you, so you well know he was aware of this. And speaking of that ill-fated expedition to recover Latura, carried out against my wishes, I seem to recall doing a top-notch job of patching you up when you came limping back to Redwall. Do you really think I would have placed my healer's skill so completely at your disposal if I were Urthbood's agent?"

"Would've looked mighty suspicious, a renowned healer not tendin' her patients well. Coulda been part of your cover ... an' Urthblood knows enuff 'bout healin' himself that takin' over a healerbeast is something he might be able t' pull off." But Clewiston was sounding far less sure of himself now than when he'd convened this emergency council.

"But this still doesn't address what concerns me most," Geoff went on, "and that's how you've changed, Nessa. Even without Urthblood entering into it, the things you've done, and the attitude you've thrown about ... just giving Latura over to the Gawtrybe, and ordering that nobeast go after her ... and then those four rats in the Infirmary ... "

Vanessa dropped her gaze to her paws. "I have been through a lot ... and it has changed me, I will not deny it. And I am not proud of everything I have done, or all the decisions I have been forced to. I remember my days of peace and devotion to this Abbey almost as if it was a happy dream. But I assure you I am no less devoted to Redwall now than then. And if you find fault with some of my recent actions, my only defense is that the situation has changed, and I have, for better or worse, adapted to meet them as best I can."

"That's the first trace of contrition I think any of us have heard from you since any of this started," said Arlyn. "And I don't think it's a sentiment Urthblood - or any mind-controlled minion of his - would be able to articulate as you just did. I believe you over Urthblood's note."

Geoff considered the elder Abbot's statement for a few moments, then gave a considered nod of his own. "So do I. You have my support in this, Vanessa."

"Thank you, Geoff." Her gaze travelled to Elmwood. "You've not had much to say during this session, Elmwood. Your thoughts?"

"I don't pretend to be as wise as our two Abbots," the squirrel said. "I'm only here filling in for Alex, and I can't claim that I'd speak as he would. But you've convinced me ... Abbess."

Vanessa looked then to the Gawtrybe squirrel. "And what of you, Lady?"

"I ... I don't know what to think," the Gawtrybe squirrel admitted, still looking entirely discomported by these proceedings. "I have never been aware of Lord Urthblood possessing spiritual powers of the sort even remotely hinted at in that message ... and yet, if that message was a lie, it was a lie directed as much at me as anybeast. And I would hate to feel so ... used ... as part of some reputation-damaging deceit like this."

"Welcome to how we all felt when Urthblood used Redwall as bait to draw his brother out of Salamandastron." Vanessa looked to the other side of the table. "Maura, Winokur - your thoughts?"

"You know you've had my unwavering support through all of this, Nessa," said Maura. "And I would say the Colonel seriously overstepped his bounds by conducting this inquiry as he has. But I've always believed that the truth will out in any situation, and I believe it has here as well."

"As with Arlyn," Winokur added, "I am gratified and reassured to hear you admit a trace of humility that we surely could have used from you long before now. I'd prefer to think it wasn't through coercion alone that you were forced to it, but whatever the cause, it was a welcome thing to these ears."

"Duly noted." Vanessa at last aligned her gaze with those of the two Long Patrol commanders seated at the far end of the table. "Well, Colonel? Field Marshal? Are you satisfied now?"

"Not by half, marm," Clewiston replied, while Traveller held his silence for the moment. "Every argument you've made here, an' every view an' justification you've put forth, could just as easily have been espoused by Urthblood himself, makin' you say wotever you needed to say to try 'n' wiggle out of this an' win us back over. Mina's confusion, that owl's lookin' so blindly caught in his ruse, it all coulda been part o' pullin' the wool over our eyes, an' keepin' it pulled." He gestured toward Maura and Winokur. "We all know you've been workin' on these two since day one, so it's no surprise they're supporting you now. An' as for our two fine Abbots, well, who wouldn't want to engage in a little wishful thinking in a case like this? But wishful thinking doesn't make it so."

"Then Urthblood's note has truly done its work well. And I take it you'll hardly be content to let the matter rest, and let my tenure as Abbess go unchallenged?"

"Not while there's so much doubt about the matter, marm - an' right now, I remain exceedin'ly dubious about the rationales you've spun for us. An' I'll make sure every hare of the Patrols keeps that in mind - an' keeps their eyes on you at all times."

"I thought as much. And that's hardly any way for me to conduct my affairs as Abbess, being scrutinized and second-guessed at every turn by suspicious Abbeybeasts who will now question my every motive. I was afraid it would come to this ... "

Vanessa steepled her paws before her and rested them against her lips, eyes closed as if entering serious, soul-searching contemplation. So fastened was their attention upon her that Clewiston and Traveller failed to realize right away what was happening.

Geoff's eyes closed, and his head nodded.

Next to him, Arlyn's eyes also closed, and his head similarly nodded.

And beside the two mice, both Elmwood and Lady Mina went into unbidden, seated swoons.

What most alarmed Clewiston and Traveller, however, was when all the hares surrounding Vanessa at her end of the table, and all those nearest the two Long Patrol commanders as well, promptly fell asleep right on their footpaws, eyes shut and ears drooped forward as their jaws hit their chests.

Clewiston half-rose from his chair, eyes wide upon realizing that, quite suddenly, he and Traveller and Winokur and Maura seemed to be the only ones still awake. "Hares, to attention! Rouse yourselves, an' that's an order!"

"You'll not wake them that way, Colonel." Vanessa's eyes opened, now with a gaze of cold command. "In fact, you'll not be waking them at all."

"Wot'd you do to 'em?!"

"They were looking a little tense, so I decided they could do with a bit of a rest. And we didn't really need any of the others for the next part of this discussion. You started this, Colonel, against my blunt cautions not to. Are you now ready to follow your inquisition all the way down the rabbit hole - if you'll pardon the pun - and into another realm entirely?"

Clewiston glared at Badgermum and otter Recorder. "Why're they still awake?"

"Because they know the truth."

"An' wot truth is that?"

Now a faintly bemused smile did lift Vanessa's lips. "Can you keep a secret, Colonel?"


	35. Chapter 107

**CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN**

Vanessa stood before the Tapestry, a picture of self-possessed calm as she regarded the ancient weaving. Clewiston and Traveller, by contrast, stared in boggle-eyed amazement, not at the Abbess or the needlework but at Great Hall around them. Even Winokur and Maura, bringing up the rear from Cavern Hole, joined the two hares in showing surprise at the tableau presented to them now.

Beasts filled Great Hall, many having gathered to eagerly await any word from the council being held downstairs. Every one of those creatures now stood or sat with head nodded and eyes closed, exactly the same as the Abbey leaders and Long Patrol in Cavern Hole. If a single one of them was aware of the five beasts gathered before the Tapestry, they did not show it.

"Have you put the entire blinkin' Abbey to sleep?" Clewiston asked, in a voice much smaller than the bluster he'd brandished at the council.

"Every bird and beast within these walls, except for the five of us. I wanted to be able to speak freely, and there are still some things I'm not ready for most here to know. And I'll have you know, speaking of knowing, that the only reason I'm taking the two of you into my confidence now is that you've rather forced the issue." Glancing at the Badger Mother and otter Recorder, she added, "Although I suspect Wink and Maura were growing rather weary of being the only two Redwallers to share my secret. Then again, the more who know a secret, the less likely it is to remain a secret. Thus, I am entreating you to respect my wishes in this, and share what you are about to hear with no other."

"And if we refuse?" Clewiston challenged, although his tone suggested he was not seriously entertaining such a notion. "Do you snap your paws and make us forget everything?"

"That remains a possibility, yes."

The two hares practically blanched at this thinly-veiled threat.

"However," Vanessa went on, "that would pose certain complications I'd just as soon avoid. Hence, I'd rather you didn't force me to such measures. But I place great stock in the honor of the Long Patrol, and trust in you to do the right thing, once you've heard me out."

"Speakin' of honor's all well an' good, marm, long as both sides possess it. I still have my doubts about you. An' I'll not be held to any pledge extracted through deceit, or under duress."

Vanessa looked to the other hare. "And what of you, Traveller? You've not had much to say during these proceedings. Where do you stand?"

"Right where I jolly well am, I reckon. But I'd like to know exactly who it is I'm dealin' with, don'tcha know. I mean, wot kind of benevolent beast does somethin' like _this_ ... " Traveller swept his arm to indicate the supernaturally-slumbering Great Hall.

"Who do you_ think_ would be capable of wielding such power within Redwall? The list of likely suspects is quite small."

"Wager His Bloodiness could," Clewiston cut in, "an' I really can't think of anybeast else alive who fits the bally bill. So if you're trying to convince us otherwise, you're not doing your case any jolly favors."

"I'm not Urthblood."

"Then p'raps it's time for you to stop playin' games," said Traveller, "an' come right out an' tell us."

"The time for games is well past. But you were there last spring at Foxguard. You saw the stone to the head - " Vanessa pointed at her temple, " - and you saw this body crumple. You must have known there would be no getting back up again after that."

Traveller seemed momentarily confused. "But, you did get up again ... "

"Yes, I did." The mouse met the hare's gaze with a wistful look. "Sadly, Vanessa did not."

The two Long Patrol stood regarding her for some moments. At length Traveller spoke. "So, you're sayin' ... "

Vanessa turned her gaze upon the Tapestry. "I never found this a particularly good likeness. I think the carving on my tomb down below Cavern Hole does me far better justice."

Clewiston and Traveller lapsed into silence again, this time longer than before. Around them, the stillness of slumber-struck Great Hall seemed like a pause in history, a deeply-held breath in the flow of the world. The five of them might as well have been the only waking souls in all of creation.

"That's ... that's a lot you're asking us to swallow," Clewiston said at last. "Right bloomin' fantastic, it is."

"I know. But Vanessa is gone, and has been since last spring. I'm either who I say I am, or I'm Urthblood; those are your only two choices. And frankly, the idea of anybeast imagining I'm Urthblood's unthinking puppet rankles me more than I can adequately express."

Clewiston looked to Maura and Winokur. "You two have known about this, all along?"

The badger nodded. "Since the evening of the day Latura was abducted."

"An' you believe her?"

"We do. Her revelation to us was ... most persuasive."

"And now that I've poked sufficient holes in Captain Saugus's story," Vanessa said, "I hope I'll be able to similarly persuade you as well. If I can't, I might as well just pack it in and return to Dark Forest right now."

"Why keep this from us at all?" asked Traveller. "We, of all beasts, who stand as this Abbey's most ardent defenders ... "

"When you're not out chasing after kidnapped rats, against my express wishes. But you answered your own question: It wasn't necessary to tell you. The Long Patrol already stand wholly and foursquare in their dedication to defending Redwall - one might say fanatically so. And you rightly believe Urthblood to be the enemy of this Abbey, and of all the lands, and all decent, honest creatures. In other words, I didn't have to confide in you, because you were already exactly what I needed, and the revelation that Redwall's founding Warrior had returned wouldn't have done anything to heighten your already unswerving loyalty. It's the same reason I would not have revealed myself to Alexander either, had he been here; he too has become convinced Urthblood is our enemy, and he has always placed the needs and security of Redwall above all else, his marriage to Mina notwithstanding. There would be nothing further to gain from sharing this secret with him, so I wouldn't. Montybank and Foremole may eventually have to be brought in on our little conspiracy, but for now they're away at the quarry, so that can wait. For the time being, I'd still like to keep this as close to the vest as possible, and include as few Abbeybeasts as I can."

"Still not sure why, ma'am," Traveller said, then frowned. "Uh, do we even still call you that? Or Abbess, for that matter?"

"Of course. Once the rest of the Abbey wakes up in a little while, I'll be back to being just Vanessa, as far as you and everybeast else is concerned. And I'll be counting on you not to make any slips of the tongue which might give me away."

"But, why keep it a secret at all?" Traveller argued. "Times as dark an' dire as these, mebbe your return is just wot everybeast needs t' hear. Wot better way to renew hope an' bolster confidence to those who could use it most?"

"Travs is right," Clewiston seconded. "This is somethin' Redwall jolly well needs t' know. An' if you _had_ been open with us about this, then this feint by Urthblood with his false message to Mina wouldn't have caught traction, an' his ploy would've failed before it even started. Your own secrecy worked against you, an' nearly got you booted out of the Abbess's chair - an' mebbe out of Redwall alt'gether."

"I have my reasons - although I'll admit those reasons are far less compelling, now that Urthblood knows I've returned."

"But, does he?" Traveller wondered. "Can we be sure of that?"

"We can be sure. The message he sent with Captain Saugus leaves no doubt: an attack not on Redwall as a whole but, as Arlyn just observed downstairs, on me personally, to undermine my authority as Abbess and sully my reputation with suspicions I would never be able to fully dispel. Indeed, this proves he not only knows of my return, but my identity as well, and which body I inhabit. And this complicates matters considerably."

"Well, who the fur told 'im?" Clewiston burst out, indignation over Urthblood's latest duplicity at last overtaking his lingering doubts as to Vanessa's self-professed true identity.

The mouse shrugged. "It must have been somebeast. It really doesn't matter now. We can only go forward from where we are now, and deal with the situation as best we may."

"An' wot exactly does that mean?" asked Traveller. "Wot _is_ the situation? Wot can we expect from Urthblood now?"

"I cannot see the future - not the way Latura can. As I have already explained to Winokur and Maura, I can only sense Urthblood's general mood, and perhaps the barest shadow of his intent. But that's the funny thing: I'd sensed an attack coming from him before today. And now ... " She rustled the parchment in her paw. "That sense is gone. Dissipated. This _was_ the attack. And now his immediate attention has turned elsewhere. It's as if now that he has assailed my character and standing, he is satisfied - at least now the moment - and no longer considers Redwall worth his time or energy."

"Well, that's a relief," said Maura. "When you shared these concerns with us last night, we feared a full military assault. At least this is something we can handle."

"How sure about this are you?" Clewiston asked Vanessa.

"As sure as I can be about anything, where Urthblood is concerned. And I'm afraid I cannot entirely share Maura's optimism about his shift of focus. Just because his immediate attention no longer fixes upon us, that does not make it a good thing."

"Why not?" asked Traveller.

"Because Urthfist was right. Urthblood's own prophecy surely names him as the bringer of the very crisis it foretells. Or if it doesn't, it may as well, since I have seen inside Urthblood, down to his very nature, when I dwelt purely in the spirit realm. Which means that no matter what he strives to achieve, whether in our nearer woods or far from Mossflower, it's all the same, and will ultimately result in disaster for us all, no matter what. And right now, I see him looking to the south."

"To the south?" Clewiston repeated. "Do you think he means to take on Sodexo, once our Badger Lord ally leaves Redwall an' returns to the Southern Glades?"

"There's no doubt our friend Sodexo has proven a thorn in Urthblood's side that he would dearly love to pluck, but if so, that lies beyond any future I can sense. I see his gaze turned even farther south than Sodexo's domain."

"Then it's no concern of ours," deemed Clewiston. "Nothing that far away can pose any threat to us."

"Don't be too sure about that, Colonel. Everything Urthblood does fits into his larger plan somehow. He already controls the Northlands almost absolutely, except Noonvale and perhaps the otter holts. He already controls the coastlands almost absolutely as well, his Accord with Tratton holding the searats at bay and his gulls enforcing his will over shore and coastal waters both. And now he looks toward Southsward - and, I suspect, an alliance with Floret. If he succeeds in that, he will wield unparalleled influence in all the lands north, west and south of Mossflower. Throw in Foxguard and Gawdrey, and he won't even have to concern himself with conquering Redwall; he'll have effectively conquered all the territory surrounding us, leaving this Abbey as cut off and isolated as Noonvale ever was. And, if it should turn out he harbors ultimate designs on Redwall, an alliance with Southsward could well win him additional fighting reserves to counter any allies Sodexo might be able to drum up for us from southern Mossflower. Imagine an assault launched against Redwall with not only the full force of his Gawtrybe and vermin fighters, but also scores or hundreds of additional troops supplied by Southsward."

The others stood appalled by this mental picture. "Is there any way we can stop him?" Winokur said. "Maybe get some kind of envoy of our own to Southsward ahead of him, with word of what he's been doing in Mossflower and warning them not to trust him?"

"I don't see how. I feel this has been on his mind for some time now; perhaps he was waiting to see how things turned out with Latura first. But now that he is ready to move, he'll move fast. I fear there will be no pre-empting him in this endeavor."

"Just why _did_ you give 'im Lattie in the first place?" Clewiston asked. "That's the one point in this whole rigamarole that's bothered me more'n anything."

"Aside from the reasons I've already articulated publicly - that she was too chaotic a force to be allowed to remain at Redwall, and that Urthblood would indeed have flattened our Abbey to get at her, all of which was entirely true - I meant for Latura to be his undoing, just as I believe fate intended as well. Traveller and I already had this conversation the day she was stolen away, although at the time he did not guess who he was truly speaking with, and I impressed upon him how Latura coming to stand before Urthblood represented the best chance we would ever have of bringing about his downfall. It's what Urthblood himself wanted, and it may have been her very destiny; I merely nudged things along a bit."

"And how did that turn out?" Clewiston broached with rhetorical wryness.

"It rather went spectacularly wrong, as you've no doubt surmised already. Latura still lives; she has passed under Urthblood's scrutiny and through Salamandastron, and now he has given her over to the searats. Somehow, he sensed the trap fate had wrought for him, knew that slaying Latura would destroy him - that slaying her by his own paw was the only way she posed a threat to him - and allowed her to move on unscathed. And more than that, he divined my own part in making sure she reached him." Again, she flapped the parchment in her grasp. "This treacherous communique stands as proof enough of that."

"It's Tratton and his rats that worry me most," opined Clewiston. "If Urthblood really is allied with the Searat King, as Lord Urthfist long predicted - an' you just said yourself our old Lord was right about Urthblood's prophecy - those seavermin can throw numbers at us that would make anything from Southsward look like a bunch of leverets with pea shooters. Barbarians who are also trained fighters, hittin' us in wave after wave, with Urthblood 'n' Tratton jointly commandin' 'em - that'd be a blinkin' nightmare out of any goodbeast's troubled sleep."

"Tratton doesn't concern me," Vanessa replied. "His domain is the sea, and his forces are not accustomed to land battles. More to the point, he's still adjusting to this Accord - as are his captains and officers. Keeping his naval power intact - and himself on the throne overseeing that power - must be his primary concern, and I suspect that will keep him too busy to - "

At that moment a sound intruded upon their gathering, a sound which could not possibly be. All five heads turned as one toward the door leading out onto the grounds, its heavy creaking clearly announcing that somebeast had just opened it. Across the dim threshold to their astonished eyes crept Mona, her own eyes wide with frightened confusion. At first she didn't seem to notice them, her gaze taking in all the entranced creatures around Great Hall. But then her sights shifted to the Tapestry, and to the quintet standing before it, and she realized they stood not with heads bowed and eyes closed as everybeast else, but were awake and alert and staring right back at her.

Clewiston turned to Vanessa. "You invited her?"

The mouse's lips curled downward. "No. As a matter of fact, no I didn't."

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, the Colonel returned his gaze to the vixen. Now Mona's mere fright seemed to be intensifying to something more resembling terror, the color draining from her ears as her face, at first just ghostly, turned a whiter shade of pale, eyes widened further as jaw dropped and hackles rose. Reaching behind her to grasp at the empty air, she retreated, step by slow step, until she'd withdrawn to the twilit outdoors once more.

"Poor dear. I'm afraid we've gone and given her a start."

"Wot th' bally backflippin' blazes was that all about?" Clewiston demanded.

"It seems my sleep spell, for want of a better word, didn't entirely take with her. That must have been quite unnerving for her, finding herself the only waking beast in Redwall, to all appearances, and then stumbling in here to find us conferring in occult secrecy and staring at her like an intruder from another reality. One can only imagine what it must have looked like from her point of view."

"Yes, but - why didn't she succumb to your will, along with everyballybeast else?" the Colonel pressed.

"Mona has always been a special case - perhaps more special than even she realizes. She has one paw in the other world, just as Latura and Urthblood do. Not as strongly, of course, and of a somewhat different nature, but it's still there nonetheless. I received a potent reminder of that earlier today, when she was able to sense some of my own abilities. And apparently, her gifts are strong enough in her that she successfully resisted my will on this occasion."

"Should one of us go out and get her?" Traveller asked.

Vanessa shook her head. "She'll not be able to awaken anybeast else until I allow it. And something tells me she'll not be quick to share what she experienced here with anybeast else, once they do wake up. She'll not want to appear unhinged, delusional, or a raving lunatic once we deny it - which we will. Still, I suppose we'd best resume our seats downstairs, before too much time elapses. Right now, this interlude will only strike our visitors and fellow Abbeydwellers as a minor hiccup in their awareness, but the more time passes, the more likely they'll be to notice some discrepancy in their perceptions."

"Before we do," said Maura, "I think you should tell them about Tolar, and Foxguard."

This piqued the two hares' interest. Regarding Vanessa with a gaze not to be denied, Clewiston said, "Wot about that place, ma'am?"

Vanessa sighed, as if having been forced into this revelation by Maura. "It may be a bit premature to speak much about this, but suffice it to say that the arrival of the swordfoxes may have proven most fortuitous. In view of Latura's failure to dethrone Urthblood, other avenues must be explored, and Tolar represents one of those, and perhaps the most promising one. Thus, I have been quietly, subtly working on him."

"Workin' him?" Clewiston repeated.

Vanessa pointed at her temple. "This way. Mind to mind, without him being aware of it - although I suspect Mona may now have a glimmering of what I can do in this regard. But Tolar is dissatisfied with the current state of affairs on any number of levels, and still holds relations with Redwall as paramount, perhaps because Foxguard lies so close to us. It is this angle of his psyche I hope to influence, with a few pushes and prods in just the right places. Building on his already existing frustrations, maybe - just maybe - Urthblood will discover to his chagrin and dismay that the fox fortress he poured so much of himself into erecting will refuse to take part in any assault on Redwall he might order in the future."

Now both hares raised their eyebrows, Traveller joining the Colonel in the gesture Clewiston had practically appropriated as his own hallmark gesture of surprise. "That'd be a corker in His Bloodiness's face. Any chance you might be able t' swing those brushtails all the jolly way around, so that they'd fight on our side 'gainst Urthblood?"

"Let's not overreach, Colonel. Winning Foxguard's neutrality will tax my powers of influence to their limit; Tolar will not lightly disregard a direct order from his badger master, and that might be all we can hope for. Getting him to actually take up arms against Urthblood? I'm good, but I'm not that good."

"Will the Gawtrybe allow him to remain neutral?" Traveller wondered. "Even after they've got Gawdrey fully established, they may still use Foxguard as a staging area for this Purge of theirs. Tolar will still have 'em underpaw - an' if he's not careful, more likely he'll find 'imself under their heel, an' not as free to move on his own as either he or we might like."

"The Purge may just prove our saving grace where the Gawtrybe are concerned. They're fanatics, and totally dedicated to Urthblood, and I would stand zero chance of exerting any meaningful influence over them. But this campaign of theirs against the rats may keep them too busy to directly harass us further - or to pay too much attention to Tolar's nagging and deepening doubts. Only time will tell how much more trouble will come our way as a result of these developments. The situation is hardly ideal, so we shall just have to make the best of it that we can."

"And you'll have our full support," Maura pledged. "Now that the Colonel and the Field Marshal have heard you out and appreciate what's at stake, I'm sure they see the importance of not undercutting your authority as Abbess - even if you are, in truth, much more than that."

Vanessa gave the Badger Mother a wan smile. "I'm afraid I've already been undercut more than my authority can stand, Urthblood has seen to that. Once we're back in our places downstairs, I will announce that I am stepping down as Abbess, and ceding the head chair to Geoff once more - which boosts you back to full and sole historian and Recorder, Wink. After this public airing of Urthblood's false accusations, even after I have reasonably defended myself and refuted these charges, too many beasts will harbor too many lingering, secret doubts for me to remain an effective Abbess. Geoff may be part of the 'hardly ideal' situation I was referring to, but at least nobeast will question who he is."

"All due respect," said Clewiston, "but I'd say making Geoff Abbot again brings a whole slew of different doubts. Fine fellow, that one, an' a good egg who means well, but ... is he really the best mouse for th' job right now? Almost think I'd rather have Abbeybeasts doubting who you are than doubting whether our dear Geoffrey's up to snuff, wot?"

"He's right," Traveller added. "We need a beast with a good strong backbone more'n anything ... "

"And you'll still have it," Vanessa assured them, "just not from the Abbot's chair. I'm not going anywhere - and if the storm breaks upon our walls this season or next, I'll not stand by and let my Abbey falter. I will do whatever I must to defend Redwall."

"But ... couldn't you go downstairs an' ... make 'em all forget?" the old hare pressed. "Make it so they never heard you read that message, or never saw us arrest you?"

"You mean Geoff, and Arlyn, and Elmwood, and Lady Mina, and all your hares as well? Not easily. But even if I could, I wouldn't. Messing about with other beasts' minds and memories is not something I take lightly, and will turn to only as a last resort, if I am absolutely forced to it. I've already done more of that this season than I am comfortable with, and while I may pursue such tactics with Tolar, it is only in the defense of Redwall that I do so. My fellow Abbeybeasts? The creatures I am sworn to defend to the last shred of my being? How would _you_ like having your memory of our entire conversation here wiped away as if it had never happened?"

"Um ... not very much," Traveller stammered, "now you put it like that. Uh ... could you do that?"

"Again, not easily. With you two, I've shared too much, and took a calculated risk in doing so. As to those down in Cavern Hole, I would much prefer they keep all their memories along with their suspicions of me, warranted or not, rather than subject them to an unnatural reordering of their recollections. And if you were in my position, I'd like to think you'd see it the same way."

Clewiston snorted. "Not jolly likely to find ourselves in your position, are we?"

Vanessa smirked. "No, I suppose not."

"So what will you do?" Winokur asked. "If you're not going to be Abbess anymore?"

"We need a strong paw in the Infirmary - and since I remember everything Vanessa did, I'm sure Arlyn and Metellus will welcome being relieved by a more skilled and experienced healer. And now that it appears our young badger apprentice may no longer be receiving any further lessons from Mona, I can take it upon myself to advance his education under my own tutelage. I'll have a lot to offer in that position - even if our rat guests might still prefer to be treated by any paws but mine. But I'll be perfectly capable of watching over things from there, and stepping in if circumstances dictate." She gestured toward the stairs to Cavern Hole. "Now, shall we?"

As they filed toward the lower level, Clewiston cast one last awestruck glance at the slumbering occupants of Great Hall ... and his gaze settled on Grayfoot, seated at table with his wife and son, the three of them still and silent with heads nodded over their supper porridge.

"If I might make a suggestion, marm," the Colonel proposed, "while you're pushin' about in the minds of our fox friends to drive a wedge 'tween them and Urthblood, there's a certain ferret I wager might stand to benefit from similar attentions ... if you're so inclined, that is."


	36. Chapter 108

**CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT**

The morning after Vanessa's abdication, all anybeast could talk about was the mysterious note Urthblood had sent and the equally mysterious circumstances surrounding the reascension of Geoff to the Abbot's chair.

This rampant speculation was hardly damped by the fact that somebeast had framed the infamatory letter and hung it in Great Hall from the empty brackets for Martin's sword, for all to see.

And dangling below it, a second, smaller paw-scrawled sign in bold lettering clearly spelled out what at least one Abbey resident thought of the dispatch, its two word a simple indictment: "Urthblood's Folly."

Clewiston, when he was able to get Vanessa alone for a moment after breakfast, almost accused, "Your pawwork, I take it?"

The twice-former Abbess put on her best innocent look. "Now why would you think that, Colonel?"

"Well, apart from the minor detail that you were the last one seen in possession of that parchment, can't see anybeast else 'round here possessing the temerity to throw it all in our faces like this."

"Ooo, temerity! Good word there! You must have excelled at hare school."

"Abbess ... marm, this is serious! Why would you want to undercut yourself like that?"

"Because I'm not. Even if we could count on Arlyn and Geoff and Elmwood and Mina to remain discreet about the content of the message _you_ forced me to read aloud, how many of the Long Patrol heard it as well? How many read it before you called last evening's council? For that matter, where's the copy you said you made before presenting Urthblood's original message publicly? Tongues will wag; there's no way we could have kept it secret. Any attempt to do so would only have given it the kind of power Urthblood wanted it to have. And we can't have that, can we?"

"Mebbe so, but still, calling attention to it like that almost seems to be invitin' exactly the kind of scrutiny I'd think you'd want to avoid. At the very least, it might leave some here questionin' whether there's any truth to it after all."

"Good. Maybe they should be questioning everything about me, and everything about Urthblood too. Maybe that's exactly what we need more of around here. The truth will out, Colonel, just as Maura said last night, and in spite of my little masquerade, I'm confident I can withstand having my words and deeds held up to the full light of day. Can the same be said for Urthblood? And if we do shine a light on him, and expose him for all he really is, will we be able to tolerate him after that?"

"Hrmph. Said by the mouse who sent the whole bloomin' Abbey to sleep so she could have a word with me in private ... "

Elsewhere in Great Hall, Trelayne breakfasted with Geoff at the head table. Two concerns occupied the marten's mind, both of which he voiced now.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right, Abbot? That must have been fairly traumatic, falling on that sculpture and having it shatter to send some of the fragments into your chest like that."

"No more traumatic than having Captain Saugus crash down on top of me so unexpectedly. But Metellus and Arlyn examined me closely, and declared me fit to attend last evening's council. They're just minor cuts, nothing serious. I'm sure they've already started to heal."

"I do hope so. I'm not sure if it's reached your attention, but I've heard somebeasts speculating this morning that your little mishap yesterday may have been foretold."

Geoff's cup of elderberry cordial paused halfway to his lips as he fixed the glassmaker with an intent gaze. "Oh?"

"Yes, yes. Apparently that supposedly prophetic ratmaid, shortly before she was taken away by the Gawtrybe, said something to you, and pointed at your chest. What did you make of that incident, and do you believe she could have been prophesying what befell you yesterday?"

Geoff was quick to dismiss this theory. "Oh, I doubt it. While I don't doubt Latura did indeed possess some genuine gift in that area - for if not, why would Lord Urthblood have sought her so aggressively? - on that occasion she seemed more to be displaying a distinct lack of social graces than anything. She drew her paw straight across my breast as if ... well, as if crossing me off, telling me I didn't matter anymore, and then said she wasn't going to speak with me anymore. Now that I think about it, that was the evening before Vanessa came back to us as Abbess, so maybe Latura had glimpsed my demotion, and that was her own peculiar way of conveying it. But, as unexpected as that all was, fate has twisted once again to replace me in the Abbot's chair once more. So, if that was truly what Latura had glimpsed, it proved to be just a temporary state of affairs."

"Ah, yes, well, congratulations on that again, Abbot. That whole thing strikes me as most strange, with the note to Lady Mina which may not have been meant for her at all, and the Abbess stepping down in light of such allegations hanging over her. But it does rather bring things nicely full circle where I am concerned, doesn't it? You were Abbot when I arrived at Redwall for my very first time, and you were restored to that position during what may prove my final visit here. Almost I am tempted to try to picture some way to visually represent that recursive happenstance, and see if I can express it in sculpture form. It would have to be an abstract piece, of course ... "

"Yes, of course," Geoff agreed, not entirely sure he knew what Trelayne was talking about. "The use of our facilities here are yours, for as long and as much as you like. And, not to impose upon your good graces, but I would encourage you to attempt another figurine of me, if you're still of a mind to produce one. Who knows? Maybe the third time will be the charm! I promise not to fall on it next time!"

"Haha, yes, of course I shall endeavor to replace it a second time. I did promise you such, and I do not weasel out of my promises, even if we martens happen to be weasel relatives. And since we've still not arranged for any Gawtrybe to escort me back to Salamandastron, I might be here for some days to come, so there will be ample opportunity to fire up the kiln again and take another stab at your sculpture. Also, another chance to work with Kyslith will be welcome as well. I'm just glad you're feeling no ill effects from yesterday, Abbot. To hear some of the Abbeybeasts talk, they seemed worried that the ratmaid's premonition might have concerned something far more dire than a change of the Abbotship, or a few surface cuts below the fur."

"Hmm. Funny how nobeast has confided such concerns to _me_, since I'm the one that premonition was supposedly about."

"Well, Abbot, it would be a rather awkward subject to broach, you must admit ... "

Out on the lawns, enjoying a slightly later breakfast than those indoors, Mina sat with Tolar and his swordfoxes, just as she had the previous morning - except that now, instead of her usual self-assurance, she displayed reservation and an almost wounded uncertainty. Such was her unease that she'd barely touched her food. Looking imploringly at the vulpine chieftain, she asked, "What do you think it all means, Tolar?"

"It means, Lady - and it pains me to voice such an opinion, even though the evidence leaves no other conclusion - that Lord Urthblood is no longer a friend of Redwall's, if indeed he ever was."

She seemed half-affronted, even as she also accepted this statement as expected. "Explain." Her tone suggested she sought less a defense from the fox than an articulation of his reasoning, to see how it compared to her own.

"The message Captain Saugus delivered yesterday can be one of only two things: true, or untrue. If true, then he has subverted Redwall's very leadership, seizing control of a revered former Abbess to direct events here according to his will. If false, then it constitutes an attack against that very same leadership. Either way, it is the act of neither a friend or ally of this Abbey."

Mina stared morosely at her paws. "And hence, 'Urthblood's Folly.'"

"Any confirmation yet on who hung that sign?"

"It had to've been the Abbess, although she's not admitting it - and, in case you hadn't noticed, she's become _very_ good at deflecting questions she cares not to answer."

"How sure are we that the message was genuine? That it did in fact come from Lord Urthblood, and not some other source?"

"Aside from the fact that it was delivered by a trusted and longstanding owl captain of his forces? I've examined the note closely, and the pawscript seems indeed to be that of His Lordship. Ever since losing his right paw to Urthfist, the cadence of his quill stroke has borne a very distinctive quality, and I feel it would be exceedingly difficult for anybeast else to replicate the subtleties of his writing to that degree."

"Having examined the parchment myself earlier this morning, Lady, I'm afraid I am forced to agree. It is from Lord Urthblood. Which begs the question: If sending such a dispatch would reveal ill intent toward Redwall, no matter which way it was interpreted, why would he so flagrantly and blatantly expose such motivations? What, for that matter, even are his motivations here? It seems unlike him. I cannot help but feel something fundamental has changed, for him to judge that whatever he might gain by the sending of that message would outweigh the damage done here. And frankly, I cannot imagine what that would be."

"Perhaps something to do with the Purge?"

"I would not think so, Lady. If it were merely that, I'm sure he would have found some other way to achieve ... well, whatever he thought to achieve here. The Redwallers now call it 'Urthblood's Folly,' but I am not so sure that's what it was; that badger is too full of strategies, not to mention powers of prophecy, to miscalculate on a scale like this ... to take an action which could so easily result in his being caught in a lie. If he now stands revealed as hostile to Redwall - or to Redwall's leadership - I cannot help but wonder whether that somehow fits into his overall plan."

Mina regarded Tolar for a long time. "Such lines of thought make my head hurt. No matter what happens or how we view it, we will always be left wondering whether it turned out as Lord Urthblood intended. But I do know that in this case he used me. And that leaves me feeling very confused in my allegiances at the moment."

"Yes, Lady, he used you ... unless that message was _not_ a ruse, and Saugus truly was meant to deliver it to you, and nobeast else."

She stared at him hard. "Do you suppose it could ... but no. That would mean the Abbess would have to be ... no, I don't believe it. She refuted the evidence and discredited Saugus too thoroughly at the council last night. She even had Colonel Clewiston believing her by the time she was finished."

"And yet she stepped down anyway."

"Because she suspects doubts might remain - the kind of doubts I'm seeing in the very conversation we're having now. Why, Tolar, do you have reason to suspect otherwise?"

He took his time in answering. "Something happened during that council yesterday. I was sitting out here with Mona discussing what was going on - she'd just been sent outside after being questioned by the Abbess - when suddenly I seemed to nod off for a moment. At least I assumed it was only a moment, but when I snapped out of it, I found Mona sitting on the opposite side of me from where she'd been an instant before, so she'd clearly had time to get up and move. But more to the point, she seemed unsettled and disturbed in a way she'd not been before. It almost seemed that she experienced something during those few heartbeats when my eyes were closed, something that left her shaken."

"Well, what did she say when you asked her about it?"

"Only two words."

"Which were?"

Tolar hesitated again. "The Abbess."

"The Abbess?"

"Yes. And beyond that she would say no more, not even when I pressed. And you'll notice she is not with me here this morning. Something occupies her thoughts, and she seeks solitude to dwell upon them in her own way."

"Hmmm." Mina fell silent for a stretch. "Hmmm." Then she fell silent some more. "It's a pity I'll be leaving with you when you return to Foxguard. I'm starting to think it might be better if I remained here to keep an eye on the Abbess."

"You'll still have your chance for that, at least for a little while yet. Remember, I'll be going with Grayfoot to his tavern first to deliver the Realms there and help him get set up with those. I expect we'll be staying overnight, so we'll not be back here until sometime tomorrow. If there are any ... irregularities ... to uncover regarding the Abbess - or if she should try to convey something to you confidentially - you'll have that much time to work with."

"And if that time turns out to be insufficient?"

"Then there was likely nothing to it after all, and nothing to be uncovered."

Across the grounds Vanessa, finally having extricated herself from the hovering Clewiston, emerged from the main Abbey building only to be accosted by another Redwaller seeking to speak with her alone - although for this one, she put on a far more welcoming face.

"Abbess, may I ask you, please, if - "

"Yes, Metellus, I did have a little heart-to-heart with Mona yesterday, as you asked, and I found the encounter rather eye-opening. You are most correct that something about her has changed, and not for the better, I fear. It's not malicious, but I fear it could be dangerous nonetheless, or at least lead to undesirable outcomes. It's like something deep within her has shifted, leaving her inwardly wounded and questioning and adrift of the soul. I could not tell exactly what it was, and she was not about to tell me herself, but I suspect she is only too aware of this change within her, and that is why she does not want you to come visit her at Foxguard any more. And, to be honest, I don't want you going there either, at least not for now. Not until you are fully welcome there again, and Mona is in an improved state of mind to properly receive and teach you."

"Do you think it's the Gawtrybe, Abbess? And this Purge? Do you think this whole thing has left her despondent?"

"It can't have helped, of course. But no, I don't see that as the primary cause. You asked me to examine her as a personal favor, so I owe you the truth now. And I see her present melancholy as deeper and more fundamental than anything to do with the wider events of these lands. Its root is from very much inside her, and nobeast else. After that I can only speculate, and I'm not sure I'm comfortable doing that. Not yet."

"Do you think she'll get better?"

"I ... don't know. I suspect it is something she'll have to work out on her own. Some things can only be fixed from within, over time, and there's nothing any other creature can do, no matter how much they want to help. Such is it with Mona now. In the meantime, I'll be more than happy to assist Arlyn in your education. It's the least I can do. Now, if you'll pardon me, I do believe my ears are burning."

"Excuse me, Abbess?" Metellus said, looking confused.

"Somebeasts are talking about me, and coming to some very wrong conclusions. I need to go insert myself into their conversation before they lead themselves completely astray!"

Metellus gave her a playful smirk. "This morning, Abbess, I'd be very surprised if anybeast at Redwall _isn't_ talking about you!"

Up on the west walltop, staking out a solitary place of her own apart from the Abbey lookouts, Mona stood imprisoned by her own tumultuous reverie, thoughts tumbling through her overworked mind and colliding randomly, sparking constant new avenues of introspection. And if the other creatures there surmised from her lost and yet paradoxically intense gaze not to intrude upon her, such cautions were lost on the Sparra chief, who now came lopsidedly flapping down to alight on the battlements alongside her.

"Good day, Madam Mona. I trust this morning finds all well with you?"

"I am not unwell, thank you for asking."

"I see you gazing westward. Does Salamandastron draw your thoughts toward it?"

"Much occupies my thoughts these days, good Highwing."

"Ah. And I can well guess what at least one of those things must be. Little did I imagine that, when I asked you yesterday to examine Vanessa, so much would transpire from one morning to the next. Glad I am that her owl accuser stands discredited and disgraced even as he continues to enjoy the benefits of our Infirmary, but still I must wonder what to make of it all. What would impel Lord Urthblood to engage in such character assassination against our Abbess?"

"Perhaps he knows something about her the rest of us don't."

An uncharacteristic, unbirdlike pause. "Do _you_ know something about her the rest of us don't?"

Mona turned to fully face the sparrow. "I did as you asked, good Highwing. I examined the Abbess to the very extent of my abilities. And I can tell you only that there is nothing I can do or suggest in her regard. She is beyond me."

"I ... was hoping for something more than that, to be honest. Can you share no insight into the manner of her change, or what brought it about, and what is to be done about it?"

"Nothing is to be done. Not by me or, I suspect, by anybeast else. My expertise lies in one area, and she dwells in another. I have no advice or counsel to give ... except perhaps to stay as far from her as you possibly can."

"Madam, that's ... what would lead you to say such a thing?"

"Something I wish to keep to myself. And if you don't already know yourself, then you were not meant to know."

"That's ... Is there something more you can tell?"

"No." Mona looked away from Highwing, returning her gaze to the Western Plains and the distant mountains beyond. "No, there isn't."

Back down on the lawns, Vanessa sauntered up to Tolar, Mina and the swordfoxes, spread out this morning not quite so close to the rat encampment as the morning before. They all showed surprise at her approach, although on this day there was perhaps nowhere in Redwall she could have gone without generating surprise.

"Good morning, Abbess," Mina greeted her guardedly. "I trust you're feeling well today?"

"Splendid, Lady, and thank you for asking. Retirement must agree with me, because I have never felt better. I should try it more often." Turning to Tolar, she said, "I assume you still intend to travel with Grayfoot to his tavern today to oversee the disbursement of the Realms to his establishment?"

"Not all the Realms, Abbess; some will be returning with us to Foxguard, now that you've thoroughly vetoed distributing any from here at Redwall. Unless you suppose Geoff might reconsider the matter, now that he's fully Abbot again?"

Vanessa smiled and shook her head. "No, I'm afraid that's already been decided. By the Long Patrol if nobeast else; you saw the Colonel's reaction to them yesterday, and I expect that would be the result if you left any stockpiles of them with us. You'd likely find them flung all over Mossflower, littering the woods. And since we wouldn't want anybeast getting hit by flying Realms, you'll have to remove them from our premises, for safety's sake if nothing else."

"Those bunnies are getting too big for their garters, if that's the case," Mina criticized. "Determining Abbey monetary policy, and placing Redwall's Abbess under arrest ... "

"Oh, you can hardly blame them for _that_," Vanessa said airily, failing or choosing not to acknowledge Mina's intently probing gaze. "Given the content of the letter that 'accidentally' found its way into their paws, what else were they to think? One might fault them for overzealously jumping to a rash conclusion and then acting on it somewhat presumptuously, but otherwise they conducted themselves just as one might expect and hope dedicated Abbey defenders would act."

"That seems a rather forgiving and magnanimous attitude, considering they cost you your position as Abbess."

"Urthblood cost me that, Lady. And what I bear him is far more than a grudge over my position within Redwall." Looking once more to Tolar, Vanessa said, "In any event, I wished to inform you that I intend to accompany you down to Grayfoot's Tavern. I've never been there, you know, and I don't get out nearly as much as I should. The chance to stretch my legs and take in a brief change of scenery will do me good, I think."

Tolar and Mina exchanged glances, hardly succeeding in hiding that Vanessa's unexpected announcement stood at odds with their own plans so recently hatched. "We'd ... be happy to have you along, of course," the swordfox said. "I'm just surprised that you would want to."

"Oh, I don't know why it should. Grayfoot and his family are wonderful folk, and we're always sad to see them go. Percy is practically one of us, a fine playmate to our leverets. This will give me a little more time with them."

"What of your Infirmary duties?" Mina challenged. "I understood you'd be taking charge there, and helping Metellus with his training."

"They'll manage fine without me for a day or two. Weren't you just saying, Sword, that you only plan to stay at Grayfoot's overnight, and return here on the morrow?"

"I ... was. To Lady Mina, well before you joined us."

Vanessa flicked at an ear with one paw. "It's that mouse hearing of mine. Glad to know these big flaps are useful for something! Never know what I'll pick up, and from how far away. So, it's settled. I'll see you and your foxes over at the main gate when you're ready to leave. Until then ... "

As Vanessa strolled away, leaving them to themselves as abruptly as she'd come upon them, Tolar remarked to Mina, "Well, Lady, as much as we both would have liked you to have this chance to observe the Abbess in my absence, it looks like she has other plans."


	37. Chapter 109

**CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND NINE**

"I'm going with you."

Alexander stood facing down Urthblood on Salamandastron's jetty, right at the foot of the loading gangplank leading up to the _Stronganchor_. All around them the morning sun reflected and rippled upon the gently swelling coastal waters as lazy ocean breezes added to the idyllic backdrop for this latest confrontation between Abbeybeast and badger warrior.

"I'm afraid I cannot allow that," Urthblood replied. "This is an important diplomatic mission, and I can have no interference."

Captain Wakefern ambled up alongside the Redwall squirrel. "All due respect, Lord, but I've already granted this landlubber passage, worked out 'tween us to our mutual satisfaction, an' I'll not rescind my word without strong cause or reason."

"I have given both cause and reason - or, more to the point, Alexander has himself, with the belligerent and disrespectful attitude he's shown me from the moment of his arrival at my mountain. His presence on this voyage will be most inappropriate, and would only lead to unnecessary complications."

"P'raps, p'raps not. But that's up to the two o' you to hash out on yore own. I'm cap'n, so I say who sails on my ship an' who doesn't - an' right now, I say this bushtail's welcome aboard if that's what 'ee wants."

Urthblood weighed this, his inwardly assessing gaze unflinching. "Very well," he conceded at last, regarding Alex like a bothersome obstacle. "But he must be confined to quarters for the duration of the voyage, and for the entirety of our stay at Southsward."

"Um, no he won't neither," Wakefern said, "Agin, my vessel, my rules. You may be master o' this mountain, but aboard th' _Stronganchor_ my word's law, an' nobeast else's. An' I'll not treat one o' Redwall's leaders any shabbier than I'd treat you, Lord."

"Captain, my mission to Castle Floret will likely involve sensitive negotiations. I cannot risk interference from a creature who has made it abundantly clear he views me as an enemy, and will almost assuredly seek to frustrate my vital efforts in this sphere."

"That's 'tween you an' him after you disembark once we get there. But as far as th' passage itself, no guest of mine'll have any less freedom than any other."

"Did you stop to think, or consider to ask him, what business he could possibly have in Southsward?"

Alex answered for himself. "I've been an Abbey squirrel all my life, and never travelled far beyond the nearer reaches of Mossflower, aside from my two journeys here to Salamandastron. Can I be blamed for wanting to expand my horizons and see more of the lands?"

"So your only interest is in having a vacation for yourself?" Urthblood's statement stood halfway between an interrogation and an accusation.

Forced to the issue like this, Alex unabashedly admitted, "No, that's not my only interest. Somebeast needs to warn the good folk of Southsward what kind of tyrant you are, and impress upon them not to trust you."

The badger turned back to Wakefern. "As you can see, my concerns were entirely valid, and justified."

"Still not my problem. If 'ee wants passage on my ship, 'ee's got it. If he wants t' go on this voyage anyway, knowin' ye'll place him under virtual arrest once you all disembark in Southsward, that's his affair. But I'll not deny him a berth if that's what 'ee wants."

"This is hardly satisfactory, Captain."

"Sea rules is sea rules, Lord, an' yore welcome t' find another vessel to take you to Southsward if you find fault with how I conduct business aboard th' _Stronganchor_. I was willin' 'nuff to put my other obligashuns aside an' bear you where you needed t' go at yore urgin', but if my ship's not acceptable, feel free t' look elsewhere. Mebbe Cap'n Ramjohn'll take you on th' _Goodwill_, like 'ee did last summer in yore clash with those renegade shrews. Shall we ask 'im 'fore he weighs anchor an' sails off 'imself?"

Whiskersalt appeared behind Wakefern on the tumble-boulder wharf, clapping the younger otter captain heartily on the shoulder. "Nay 'n' fie, Wakey! I'm shore our arrangements'll suit 'is Lordship just fine, an' we'd not want ter inconvenience Ram an' Chobor an' their fine crew of th' _Goodwill_, since they've got ports t' visit an' trades t' make of their own, an' must be on their way. 'Sides, with all th' help Lord Urthblood's askin' of us for his nautical alliances, t'ain't as if he can just ride roughshod over our command of our own vessels, now is it?"

This piqued Alexander's attention. "Alliances? With you sea otters?"

Whiskersalt let loose with a barrel-chested laugh. "One could say that, matey, one could! But there's sea otters, an' then there's sea otters! No point goin' into it all now, since there'll be plenny o' time fer that once we're under sail. So, whaddya say, Lord? Are we takin' ye to Southsward, or ain't we?"

Urthblood need hardly have hesitated to consider; all about him on the jetty his own selected forces bustled about, making ready for boarding - twenty Gawtrybe, along with Captain Abellon's full mouse brigade. With so many preparations so deeply underway - and with his urgency so strongly implied - the badger could scarcely back out now over mere assertions of authority to be exercised by his maritime hosts.

"You are," Urthblood said at last. "And with my profound appreciation, Captains. If this Redwaller presents a problem, it is my problem and not yours, and I will figure out what to do about it on my own once we reach our destination."

"That's more like it." Wakefern turned to Alex. "My first mate Torbet'll show you to a berth of yore own. Since yore travellin' light, shouldn't pose any difficulties, unlike these hundred an' one warriorbeasts we gotta try 'n' find room for."

"The actual number is fifty-seven," Urthblood corrected. "Plus myself."

"That's still plenny enuff t' pack us to th' beams stem t' stern," Whiskersalt said. "Good thing over half of 'em 're mice an' not big folks like us otters, or else we'd be in real trouble!"

While Alex headed up the gangplank with his scant travel supplies to accept his assigned quarters and Urthblood's forces worked with the crew of the _Stronganchor_ to get boarded themselves, Whiskersalt and Wakefern went out to the trader vessel moored directly behind theirs. Chobor already held the wheel while the various deckpaws saw to the sails and lines, making the _Goodwill_ ready for her final departure as Ramjohn stood upon the stone pier overseeing from below. Each otter in turn embraced the fondly-regarded mouse captain in parting, bestowing upon him heartfelt wishes for a safe and profitable voyage himself.

"Good tradin', ya old seamouse!"

"An' don't let Tratton's scurvy seascum pilfer one whit more o' yore cargo than the Accord entitles 'em to!"

"Aw, don'tcher worry 'bout me," Ramjohn replied. "I've dealt with these scabtails enuff in recent seasons that I've learnt how t' handle 'em. Look to yourselves; th' one time I granted this badger passage, it landed me almost in th' middle of a war. If he still ain't come fully clean t' you why he needs t' get to Southsward in such a hurry, then sail with care 'n' be wary, 'cos he could have anything in mind."

"Aye, we will," Wakefern assured the mouse. "I'll not be puttin' th' _Stronganchor_ in harm's way if I sense that's how things're headed, not even if Urthblood insists on it. On wave 'n' wake, this's my domain just like Salam'dastron's his, an' not even a Badger Lord's lord over me on me own ship!"

"An' our red-armored friend seems to want our help with those other alliances pretty badly," Whiskersalt added, "so I trust he'd not do anything t' sink all that in mid-negotiation."

"I suspect you two are right. Well, I gave him an earful about what I came here for, not that it looks like it'll do much good. He's so concerned about keepin' peace with Tratton, he's willin' t' overlook a lot of questionable actions by that sea tyrant's crews an' captains, an' I doubt anything I told him's gonna change that. Accord or no Accord, those wavevermin 've always been bullies, an' they'll still pursue their thievin' ways just as far as they can push it. Guess it's up to us t' just put up with it as best we can."

Parting with pawshakes and shoulder slaps and smiles and waves, the two otters watched as Ramjohn clambered up the gangway onto the _Goodwill_. Almost immediately the plank was pulled up behind him, and as he took the wheel from Chobor and Wakefern and Whiskersalt untied and cast up the mooring ropes, the crew pushed off from the jetty with long poles and trimmed the sails so that the flat-decked trading vessel could clear both pier and the _Stronganchor_ to turn about and point back out to sea. In no time at all the _Goodwill_'s prow was aimed toward the open main, and with canvases billowing before the captured and shape winds, she and her dauntless crew struck out to resume their interrupted journey.

Urthblood, satisfied that all his own forces and materials had gotten aboard the _Stronganchor_ according to his needs, strode to the shoreward head of the jetty where Matowick and a ceremonial contingent of his Gawtrybe stood at attention to see off their Lord. "Command of the mountain is yours, Captain," the badger told him. "I cannot say how long I will be gone, but I am confident you and the others can easily manage things here in my absence. I expect no trouble that you - or, more to the point, my gulls - won't be able to head off before it begins."

"Most likely, Lord - although I daresay those battle birds strike me as a bit more unruly and scattershot since Scarbatta's death. I hope they can remain an effective and unified fighting force."

"I would not worry about that. Captain Lornbill is still understandably growing into the role left vacant by his predecessor. In times of peace such as this, little opportunity presents itself for him to hone his leadership skills under battle conditions, but he carries the experience of his flights against Tratton and Snoga, as well as the recent action out in the Western Plains, and the other gulls fear and respect him. He was the most logical choice to succeed Scarbatta."

"Perhaps. Although I still do worry about the fallout from the actions we've taken this season. And that Redwaller going with you ... if we'd had a little more warning of his intent, we might have been able to detain him until you and the _Stronganchor_ were away."

"His presence will complicate matters in Southsward, undoubtedly, but I will cope. My negotiations with Floret will be as one lord to another, and I can be most persuasive in such treating. The searat problem must concern Southsward more than what goes on at Redwall or in Mossflower, so it may be Alexander's protests will avail him little with them."

"As you say, Lord."

"I regret that your furlough with your wife and son could not have been longer, as you deserve, but I cannot allow Tratton to make inroads in Southsward if that is his aim, and I have put off this mission far too long already."

"It's quite all right, My Lord. It's not like you're sending me somewhere else again. I'll be here with Perri and Elberon, and I expect I'll have lots of time to spend with them. My main concern is how to handle Ambassador Erzath. So far we've succeeded in keeping your departure a secret from him, but sooner or later he's bound to figure out you're no longer at the mountain. Even if you have already stopped dining with him regularly as of late."

"It cannot be helped. Just limit his contact with any searats who should tie up in my absence, and closely monitor any correspondence he attempts to send, censoring it as you see fit. I will strive to return before this becomes too much of an issue."

"Yes, My Lord. The longer we can keep Tratton from finding out you've left Salamandastron, the easier I'll rest. Will you be keeping in regular touch by gull?"

"Only if necessary. I expect to be too fully occupied with events down there to issue any kind of regular reports, and would advise that you do not seek to contact me unless something unforeseen arises that you deem warrants my attention. I do not anticipate any such circumstances, and will leave such to your discretion."

Taking his leave of the caretaker Gawtrybe commander, Urthblood returned to the boarding gangway of the _Stronganchor_, where everybeast else was now aboard, with only the two otter captains waiting on the pier for him. "So," Wakefern prompted, "are we catchin' this tide, or not?"

"We are. My purpose is too vital to permit the inconvenience of one intransigent and hostile Redwall squirrel to waylay me further. Let us be off, and see if we can make good time to Southsward."

With that, the badger and the two otters strode up the gangplank, which was quickly pulled up after them, and shortly thereafter the _Stronganchor_ had joined the _Goodwill_ in untying from the jetty, turning about and pointing herself out toward the open main.

00000000000

It didn't take long for the crew of the _Redfoam_ to learn to leave Latura alone.

A close cabinmate of the ill-fated, one-eyed crossbow rat Scringewart had snuck down to the rowing galley the second night out from Salamandastron with knife in paw, intending to draw it across the ratmaid's throat in retaliation and send Latura to Hellgates after his friend. Fate might have arranged for a relatively mundane accident like the would-be assassin tripping and falling on his own blade, but clearly the forces protecting Latura felt that a less ambiguous message needed to be sent. Thus, as the conniving searat made to carve a second smile into the neck of the rat prophetess, he found himself swallowing his own tongue not at all of his own volition, and there in the aisle was he found the next morning by the waking oarslaves and the newly-risen Crackmaster, face swollen and lips blue and eyes bulging in terror. It was a sight not easily forgotten.

The brutish slavemaster certainly did not forget - although, by the third day out, he too bore livid reminders not to molest Latura, in the form of two ugly welts - one on each cheek, and each perfectly matched against the other - where lashings aimed at the ratmaid had inexplicably backfired as if his practiced whip paw had suddenly reverted to that of a bumbling novice, curling back to crack their fury against his own flesh. One time could have been discounted as the most freakish of freak accidents, but after the second mishap, the hulking rat knew to keep his weapon of discipline well clear of Latura.

Palter, chained alongside his fellow villager ever since the only-partially-successful culling ceremony abovedecks, directly benefitted from his current proximity to the off-limits ratmaid, since any punishment directed toward him that happened to stray too close to her might result in another backlash against their tormentor. Palter had incurred his share of stinging bruises before Crackmaster figured things out for himself, but now a mantle of cautious protection shielded him, and he could rest easier than many of his rowing mates.

Their fellow oarslaves' opinions toward Latura seemed mixed. All regarded her with a sense of measured awe ever since the chain-breaking, crossbow-misfiring, back spasm-wracked triple miracle which had saved half their condemned numbers, but uncertainty permeated their forlorn ranks as well - uncertainty as to just how much Latura's presence might protect the rest of them, and for how long. For those on the lucky back end of the chain line who'd been spared a watery grave, their gratitude was palpable. As for the rest, they looked to Latura with a weary wait-and-see attitude, not sure yet whether she would ultimately prove a boon or a curse, whether she would turn out to be a limited sort of savior to ease their lot or a lightning rod to draw the wrath of their cruel masters. With her worth to the majority still to be tested and shown, most eyed her with aloof and appraising hesitance, waiting to see how her participation in their enforced group misery would affect the entire game.

And then there were the other galley rats, the ones already occupying the forward rows when the land rats from Salamandastron had been brought aboard the _Redfoam_ and escorted down to their nightmarish new home. It transpired that they too were searats, but unlike the captain and crew who ran the ship, these sea rodents had fallen out of favor with their superiors, or else committed offenses insufficient to warrant death but still serious enough to have them stripped of everything, including their freedom, and slapped in chains for the remainder of whatever life was left to them. They didn't converse much, either amongst themselves or most certainly not with the woodland rats delivered here by the less wholesome provisions of the Accord. If some unspoken hierarchy held sway here, they occupied the upper echelon, and not just through their position at the fore of the galley. They might be slaves themselves, but they were still searats, members of the mightiest maritime empire to ever exert its power over wave and wake, and they carried some of that perverse pride with them even into shackled servitude. The new arrivals were barely worth their own flesh and fur - especially now that so many of their least-worthy dregs had been saved by virtue of a snapped chain - but the searat rowers, they were part of something special, even if they now suffered in the warped and wretched bowels of that society.

Not that they wouldn't have throttled their masters in a heartbeat, offered the chance.

Crackmaster was, of course, far above dishing out to his rowers the slop which passed for food, so that menial task fell to some of the lowliest of the _Redfoam_'s deckpaws - including, in a cruel twist of irony, two of the young land rats First Mate Laverty had personally pulled out of the half-doomed culling line. Now those rat lads enjoyed an awkward largess which left them free to move about (under orders and watchful eyes, of course) and perhaps someday even join the crew as full members, even as they now waited upon their chained relatives down in the rowing galley - a duty which, consequently, left them torn on how they ought to feel, and tortured at the plight of their kin, in spite of their loved ones' relief and thanks that at least their youngest had escaped the worst of this.

For this modicum of greater freedom, however, the server lads lacked any say in when the gruel would be delivered to the chained prisoners - and now, three days out from Salamandastron, it had become clear that the galley chefs of the _Redfoam_ turned their attention to the oarslaves only when it suited them, according to their whims and not tied to any set schedule. The concepts of breakfast, lunch and dinner lost all meaning to the captives, who might receive three meals a day or might as easily get only one, at any random time of the morning, afternoon or evening. Then again, given what was being presented to them as food, none of them were particularly likely to complain about missed mealtimes.

It was this poor excuse for sustenance - and the unfortunate, inevitable consequences of ingesting it - that now made Latura comment, "Gee, wish they'd put holes in these seats. That'd make things more conveenyent."

A gruff male rat named Potdar in the row ahead of them grumbled, "Wouldn't wanna sit on a hole all day 'n' night - you'd get piles sumpthin' terrible."

Spratley, another male rat seated alongside Potdar, muttered, "I'm gettin' piles even without any hole unner my backside! This hard plank bench'll be th' death o' me, long 'fore that whip claims me!"

"The splinters ain't fun down there neither," Potdar added. "But even if there was holes, ain't t' say they'd still clean up after us any more'n they do now ... "

Their few days so far in shared bondage had made conversation like this more natural, allowing the new oarslaves to learn a little about each other. Palter and Latura had discovered that the two males in front of them, along with their hardbitten companion Vernita and another rugged female named Zarephath chained farther forward in the galley, had been part of a band who'd settled in a former badger cottage in southern Mossflower to live peacefully in the deep woods, when the shrews fell upon them with savage fury, slaying two of their number who resisted and taking the survivors into captivity, where they eventually joined the group of twoscore rat prisoners who were marched all the way to the coastlands and into a far worse kind of incarceration. Across the aisle in the port bank of rowers sat Tarnise, the unfortunate mother whose babe Laverty had cruelly cast over the side, and who had nearly met such a fate herself; for the past two days all she'd been able to do was weep to herself in her own private misery, refusing to engage in any conversation with her fellow slaves. To her left and right, and behind her, and behind Latura and Palter, were all the other rats whose lives had been saved by that broken chain, the living ghosts of sadistic intent who'd managed to remain alive in this world against all odds. If the searat slaves here viewed themselves as above (and literally before) the recent arrivals from the mainland, then the ones condemned to culling by Crackmaster were the lowest of the low, looked down upon by even the other woodland rats, those who'd been judged fit to survive and serve. Would the inadvertent salvation of these lowliest of the low bear repercussions for all the rest of them? None of the land rats there really knew how things worked aboard a searat ship, what rules or laws or customs - spoken or unspoken - held sway in this crucible of wretchedness, or how any disruption to the norm might ripple outward and catch them all in its ill effect.

But they were learning. And, to their rue, they would keep on learning in the days to come.

The ratlad Carlton stopped at Latura's row with his bucket of gruel, his equally young helper Tallyrand following at his heel with ladle and a stack of ancient, chipped wooden bowls. The two youths doled out their sad portions of the equally sad nourishment, passing the filled bowls out to any who would receive them; in spite of how Crackmaster worked his charges, some still found the slop served to them unpalatable to stomach ... and some of those now showed signs of weakness and sickness, if they'd dared decline too many meals. It was beginning to look as if the last rat had not gone over the side of the _Redfoam_ this season.

Latura passed a bowl to her neighbor Tadrousse, a ratmaid nearly as slight as herself and only somewhat older. Tadrousse accepted the offering with distinct lack of enthusiasm and only a hint of appreciation - and that only because it had come from Latura. "Dunno if'n I'll be able t' keep this down any better'n th' last batch o' this dreck."

"Gotta try, Tadpole," Latura encouraged, using the playful nickname she'd assigned to Tadrousse, which was the only way she'd be able to remember any name at all for her benchmate. "Mebbe they put some seaweed in with it this time."

"That's what I'm afraid o'."

Taking a bowl for herself from Palter, Latura sniffed at it, whiskers wrinkling, then dared a sip, forcing it down before the foul broth could linger too long on her tongue. "Yuck! This's worse'n Big Bird's hardytack!" Complaining no further, she downed the rest of the gruel in one continuous guzzle until she emptied her bowl.

Palter showed considerably greater hesitance over diving into his own helping, raising it to his lips and lowering it again, then trying anew. Glancing aside at him, Latura egged him on. "Ain't like it's got mold in it."

"Might improve th' flavor," Tadrousse complained after forcing down a swallow of hers.

Across the aisle, the bereft ratmum Tarnise took in her gruel with the same pinch-nosed gusto that Latura had.

Having completed their gruel-dispensing rounds, Carlton and Tallyrand found Crackmaster standing over them with an evil grin. "Well, now that ye're finished with the easy part, let's put you two whelps to some real work! Yer mums 'n' dads an' all th' rest 've been makin' a mess o' my rowin' galley, an' I'm gettin' tired of th' stink!" In truth, the hulking rat's sense of smell had dulled and died seasons ago, but he wasn't about to share that now. "Time t' wash out 'neath these benches, pick up th' filth an' swab up th' stains, an' make this place bearable to my nose agin! Here're yer bucket's 'n' mops 'n' shovels. Do a good job o' it, or next time I'll make you do it without 'em!"

As the two hapless juveniles set to their unpleasant new assignment, Palter said to Latura, "Lattie, whaddya see? What 'appens next? How does this turn out fer us?"

"Um ... you hadta go t' sea."

"Yeah, I know!" Palter fought to keep his voice low in spite of his exasperation, not wanting to draw the attention of the sadistic overseer. "I'm already _at_ sea! We all are! But this can't be all that's left t' us fer all our remainin' days. It can't be. What becomes of us now?"

She squinted her eyes as if trying to see far away, then shook her head. "Dunno. Can't see. It's all tumbly 'n' clouded."

"Y' saw th' chain was gonna break," Tadrousse said from Latura's other side. "Y' knew what was gonna 'appen then."

"Cos it were right in front o' me," Latura explained. "Ain't nuthin' right in front o' me right now. Just gotta row, an' eat what they give us, an' sleep when we can, 'til we get to the island."

"Island?" Palter sat up straighter. "Is that where we're goin'? What happens to us there?"

"Happens to us where?"

"At the island?"

"What island?"

"You jus' said 'til we get to the island' ... "

"I did? Gee, wunner what island that is ... "

Tadrousse slumped and looked away, not that there were too many other places to look in these surroundings.

Palter lifted his footpaws as Tallyrand, grimacing, worked on the soiled deck beneath him. "Well, if'n there's an isle in our future, an' no awful fate's awaitin' us there, I hope we get there soon. 'Cos anything would be better'n this!"


End file.
